Constellations: Guardian
by Need2Scream
Summary: A camp of corpses, buried treasure, and an orphaned sparkling in the middle of it all. Ratchet sets out to find this young spark's homeland and takes the first step on a journey that will either condemn the word to darkness or keep it in the light. Shadows gather on the horizon as long buried evil claws its way up from the depths of nightmares. /Primitive AU, OCs abound!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Here's a quick glossary of animals I use here:

 _Alkab(s)/Alkilab(pl)—wild canids like Dingos or African Wild Dogs_

 _Thueban—general word for snake creature, anything that slithers across the ground_

 _*Cahm—word for venomous, i.e. cahm thuelab_

 _*Ghyr cahm—word for non-venomous, i.e. ghyr cahm thuelab_

 _Alkubra—large venomous snake, apex predator in valleys_

 _Nusar—large scavenger bird such as a vulture_

 _Saqr—bird of prey such as a falcon or hawk_

 _Namurr—a big cat of the desert climate, similar to a mountain lion_

 **oOo**

Rolling dunes of slick hot sand stretched around him as if the heat of the orn was enough to boil the land. The scorching bubbles were etched with ripples where wind tugged bits and pieces loose each time it blew through. The hood of his cloak was pulled up to keep the twin suns' hot gaze off his neck and head. Eddies of sand whirled in the valley between dunes where the wind was trapped. In that same valley were odd structures that didn't belong in the smooth roll of sand.

Cone shaped and with pale gold and white hides stretched across them they were otherwise unadorned and the strangest tents he had ever seen. Sand was starting to drift around them so they had been there more than a night or two. Yet there were only half a dozen at most, not enough for a clan. In better land it might have been a hunting party, but here in the hot dunes game was scarce. Ratchet and his raiding party had been eating well enough with rations and rousting burrow rats, but there were only four of them.

Ratchet had been watching the tents for a while now but he hadn't seen any movement or heard any noise. The wind blew strong enough to lift his cloak off his back cooling the condensation that had beaded there. Even through the fabric he had wrapped around his upper chest and shoulders and the other piece wrapped around his waist he could feel the heat from the sand close to burning his exoform. He had to move again soon whether he saw something or not. Staying prone on the hot sand wasn't something anything could tolerate long.

He canted his head when he heard footsteps behind him but wasn't worried. Save for this small camp of half a dozen tents the land was barren. "Anything?" Whistler asked in a normal voice. He didn't lie on his chest like Ratchet but perched on the dune's ridge. The wind pulled his dark brown cloak back revealing fabric of a matching shade wrapped around his shoulders and waist to protect him from the unrelenting suns. His dark frame gleamed where the fabric didn't cover and in startling contrast were five bright bands of color on his upper arms. White, red, green, yellow, and the final blue mark that proclaimed him a warrior grown. He'd gotten all of his colors at the same time Ratchet had, but he had been named leader of the raiding party. He was due some bit of deference for that, which was the only reason Ratchet didn't send him tumbling down the dune.

On the opposite dune the other two of their raiding party appeared as dark shadows against the backdrop of sapphire blue sky and golden sand. Ratchet shook his head and pushed himself up. "We all saw the smoke, but the fire has either burned out or been doused." It had been that small thread of smoky grey against the morning sky's vibrant orange that had caught their attention. They'd been wandering up and down the dunes for almost a septorn without hope of finding anything but more burrow rat colonies.

Whistler made an irritated sound and stared at the camp as if whoever was there had made it their personal goal to aggravate him. "Well, do we want to risk going down there?" he asked, not as a party leader, but as one friend to another. The final decision would be his to make, but if one of them went down to investigate there was a chance they would be walking into an ambush. Their party wasn't big enough to hold off more than seven or eight warriors. The odd conical tents down below looked big enough to hold two or three warriors apiece. An ambush would be the death of whoever approached.

Ratchet watched the eerily quiet camp and pushed himself up so only his feet were touching the sand. "I'll go," he said after a moment. Whistler shoved him and he had to catch himself before he went backwards down the dune. "Rockfall isn't quick enough to get up and down the dune and Charging Wind will try to fight instead of run if there are warriors waiting," he argued, shoving Whistler back. "And if you're attacked and killed and _I_ have to go back to camp what do you think North Wind will think about that?"

The other warrior opened his mouth and then closed it and glared at him. He looked back at the still camp. Had they not seen the smoke Ratchet would have said it was deserted. But they had been watching the camp since the suns rose and nothing had happened. It was a disciplined group of warriors indeed if they could remain still and silent that long."If the wind blows the wrong way you get out of there," Whistler said at last.

Ratchet rolled his optics. "Yes, that's why we're not sending Charging Wind."

"Go, before I push you."

Ratchet climbed over the ridge and didn't fight when the sand gave way under him and he slid a quarter of the way down. Closer, the camp didn't look much different than it had from the top. The tents were clumped in a tight small circle that made seeing between them difficult, yet another reason to worry about an ambush. Ratchet breathed deep as he continued down but not even the scent of smoke was still in the air.

It didn't take long for him to reach the bottom in a cascade of painfully hot sand but still nothing stirred. He stayed crouched and ready to bolt along the length of the dune. Trying to climb back up it directly was a good way to get a bolt through his back. Nothing moved. The wind teased at ropes holding pale gold and white hides in place on the tents. They weren't colors he'd seen in hides before. The animals of the desert were similar in color to the clans that fought to survive, full of dark greys, blacks, and occasional dark dull gold. Ratchet's odd coloring he'd inherited from his sire, or that's what he'd been told. Both his sire and creator had been killed fending off an attack before Ratchet had even his first color. His dark frame was streaked with odd accents of sand gold. It made excellent camouflage from a distance, but this close it was obvious he was a mech and not even his odd coloring would save him.

But no one came charging out, he didn't see any shadows shifting on the sand between the tents. Every sense on high alert Ratchet moved forward on all fours like a hunting namurr. When he was a body length away the wind brought a scent familiar in the desert; death. He hesitated, breathing deep, and stood without fear. He gave the all clear—two sharp barks—and strode to the camp without fear. The scent of death was too strong on the breeze for it to be stray bits of dinner left out. Something much larger was rusting within the quiet circle of tents. The quiet rush of sand announced Whistler making his way down and through the small gaps in the tents he saw the shadows of Charging Wind and Rockfall descending quickly. Nothing in the camp stirred. Walking between two tents he took a moment to feel the odd hides and his shorter fins lifted in surprise. "Soft," he said to Whistler as the other mech came up behind him again.

Whislter reached out too and did make a low whistling sound when felt the hides. "We might've actually found something," he said. Ratchet kept walking into the camp. The tents were set in very precise circle close enough together Ratchet's shoulders brushed the hides as he walked. A bigger mech would have to turn sideways or risk being snagged on the ropes tying the hides together.

In the center of the camp was a shallow fire pit quite a bit smaller than Ratchet was expecting. It looked like the kind of pit a mech would dig for only himself, not one dug to warm and feed a band of warriors.

In the tight circle of tents were four bodies sprawled out where they had fallen. Rust was deeply set in and one had gnaw marks on her arm. They still held blades in their hands, the metal dull from a thin covering of sand. Sand had begun to drift around them and the tents, but given how close the tents were it didn't have much of an opportunity to bury anything. "At least a septorn," Ratchet said, crouching to look at the femme with the chewed arm. It was a bit odd that the bodies hadn't been reduced to struts by now.

A pack of alkilab could have made a meal of them for a few days. The small compact bodied canids roamed the whole of the desert in packs that could swell to fifteen strong during the Hunting Season. Right now during the Lean Season they would be quite a bit smaller with just mated pairs and their pups, but while alkilab were fierce hunters, they wouldn't turn their noses up at an easy meal. Glancing up he frowned when he didn't see scavenger birds. Whistler also looked up and then down at the bodies before looking at Ratchet with a frown furrowing his brow.

"Only four, maybe a pack drug off a few others," he said but looked at the sky again. Scavengers, not smoke, should have been what alerted them to the camp. And there was the troubling detail of the smoke. He walked over to the fire it and crouched down examining the ashes. As hot as it was, the sun could warm the ashes to feel freshly lit, but a quick puff of air found a few struggling embers deep in the heart of the ash. "Perhaps someone passing through," Rockfall said crouching next to Ratchet. "Even a camp of dead would be a good place to recharge if one was cold and weary. I doubt we find anything useful." The last was said with a long sigh.

A warrior of six colors, Rockfall was one of the oldest in the camp and should have been the party leader. This task of keeping an optic on Whistler was beneath him. Normally another more seasoned warrior of five colors would be accompanying them. Somehow though, the old warrior had run afoul the clan leader and this subtle snub was his punishment. Ratchet had assumed when they set out that Rockfall would be surly about the insult to his honor, but he'd taken it all in stride and had spent the last septorn teaching all of them new tricks and helping them refine their skills. Whatever punishment North Wind had intended, Ratchet didn't think it was going as intended.

Ratchet glanced at the old warrior as they both stood. "The hides will be worth something," he said gesturing to the odd shaped tents. "They're the softest I've ever felt." And there were at least a dozen on each tent. Even the best hides their clan produced weren't as supple as what they had here, and those hides could be traded for needed things like metal tools. These hides were worth twice as much.

"If we want to salvage them we'll have to move quickly," Charging Wind said with dismay. "The dead are inside, too." The other three looked at where she was standing in the doorway of tent, the flap pulled aside.

"Inside?" Rockfall said, aghast. Ratchet's fins bristled. "The attack must have come like the wind to surprise warriors still in recharge," Rockfall said after he had a moment to collect himself. Ratchet was already standing in the doorway with Charging Wind looking at the bodies she'd discovered. The smell of rust and rot was stronger in the enclosed space. If they didn't get the hides down soon they'd never get the smell out and they would be as useless as Rockfall had thought they were. Three bodies lay on their bedrolls, energon was caked on the blankets beneath them. One had his throat cut while the other two had clean punctures in their chests straight through to their sparks.

"It's like they didn't even wake," Charging Wind whispered. "But look." She pointed to the long dagger still held in the closest mech's hand. Dull energon coated the blade, so it had been used before his death. "And we saw no bodies outside of the camp. Where was the watch?"

Ratchet thought about Whistler's words and repeated them. "Alkilab are strong enough to pull apart a body. Their pups will not yet be big enough to leave the den. They would have carried pieces back for them." And while that explained the lack of watch, it could not explain the three warriors with bloodied weapons still on their bedrolls. They stood in silence in the hot sun for another breem before Ratchet shook his shoulders. "Come on, the more of these hides we get down the more the wind can carry the stench away." Drawing small utilitarian knives from their wrist sheaths they began cutting the fastening ropes and pulled the hides down dropping them on the ground.

As the hides fell away more of the grisly sight was brought to light and Ratchet paused in his cutting as he looked at the bodies again in brighter light. Charging Wind didn't stop what she was doing but asked, "What?"

Leaving off where he was cutting he stepped into the tent and crouched by one of the mech's with a hole in his chest. "There's some kind of rust leaf mixture on this wound." It wasn't well made. What had caught Ratchet's attention were the pieces of leaves and stems that hadn't been thoroughly ground down. The wound was mortal though, the mech had been dead before he even hit the ground, but someone had still taken the time to apply the rust leaf tincture. The mech with the slit throat also had some kind of residue on his neck but with as old as it was Ratchet couldn't identify it.

Charging Wind stood over his shoulder as he examined the other body, staying out of his light, and said, "That's ridiculous. There's no way to survive that." Ratchet rolled his optics and didn't answer. A warm hand pressed against his back as she leaned forward. "Those leaves aren't supposed to be there?" She wasn't a healer, but she had been injured enough to have a good idea of what the healing blends should look like.

"No," Ratchet said sitting back with a frown. "I don't even think they were dried, see how the pieces are torn? That wouldn't have happened with a dried leaf." He had no idea what kind of sun-glitched healer this camp had on its hands but it looked like even if the wound hadn't been mortal the mech still would have died. Ratchet was well aware not everyone was at his level of healing, but there was a difference between being a good healer trying to help and an untrained idiot trying to mimic what they'd seen a healer do. Shaking his head, Ratchet got to his feet and left the dead in peace.

The highest hides they didn't try to climb to. Unlike the tents of their clan that had five low sturdy wooden posts with fabric stretched above and around them, these tents had three long poles that were tied together at the top. The highest were far out of reach and after inspecting the posts to see how they were anchored Ratchet and Charging Wind looked at each other and shrugged. No reason to topple a tent on themselves for two more hides. There were more than enough on the six tents. With the wind able to reach the dead the smell of rot wasn't as strong in the air, but the hides they had still carried a faint odor. Leaving them spread out on the ground to air out a bit more they moved on to the next tent.

Pulling the tent flap back he was glad to see the tent empty. The warriors had at least been able to leave to try and defend their camp from the raiders. The inside was still thoroughly sacked. Blankets, furs, and bedrolls were tossed in every direction, in places revealing the sandy floor.

Ratchet ducked through the doorway as Charging Wind continued cutting away more of the hides. Ratchet shook out two of the blankets and set them aside. Broken pieces of pottery fell to the sand. "I doubt they left much," Charging Wind said not ceasing in her work. Ratchet still continued looking. Clans had different needs. Whoever had slaughtered this camp had taken what they considered needed and valuable, that didn't mean they hadn't left something behind Ratchet could use.

He found more broken bits of pottery and a blanket so finely woven it was like touching a cloud but nothing else in the tent. Charging Wind was already trying to barter with him for the blanket but he steadfastly refused every offer.

"I'll trade you that little chest, you've been trying to get that for vorns," she said as he set the blanket to the side and returned to sorting through the interior mess. That did make Ratchet pause for a few seconds. The chest wasn't big, maybe two hands high, but it was made with beautiful polished wood and thick leather straps. But he shook his head. He was already looking forward to recharging wrapped in the blanket tonight. Charging Wind swore at him and attacked the fastening ropes on the tent with more force than necessary.

Pulling out a fur from an animal he didn't recognize Ratchet took it back out into the sun and drew Charging Wind's attention again. She left off cutting to examine the new treasure. "Beautiful," she said stroking her fingers over the glossy black and white stripes. "And so soft! This fur is so dense, this animal must've died from heat," she laughed. Ratchet folded it so the fur was protected from dirt and sand and set it next to the tent. "Help me cut the rest of the hides down so we can see. And so you don't get all the good stuff." She pointed her knife at him before she returned to her task. Charging Wind was one of the fiercest warriors in the clan as well as one of the smartest. Her dull silver frame matched the blade she used to cut the ropes. The fabric she wore twined around her shoulders and waist was a dark blue that offset her dark violet optics. She wouldn't hurt Ratchet, but he'd never hear the end of it if he found something else interesting while she was stuck outside harvesting hides.

As the hides fell away the interior of the tent was put in the suns' spotlight illuminating a scattered mess of jewel bright fabrics. Charging Wind's optics lit when she saw the vibrant reds, sky blues, and sun yellows. While Charging Wind was a warrior, she had the same fascination with fabrics and colors as the weavers. She would spend the next joor carefully sorting through the blankets to find the most unique pieces. Since every clan had one way or another of making blankets there was little trade value in them, but the weavers and Charging Wind would enjoy looking at the colors.

Once the hides were down, Ratchet moved on to the next tent while Charging Wind gleefully dove into the mess of fabric and hides. Ratchet checked Whistler and Rockfall's progress. They were halfway done with their second tent speaking with the friendly camaraderie they had all begun to develop with the older warrior. The wind blew away their exact words but the eerily silent camp was made less strange by the drone of conversation.

Ratchet cut down one of the outer hides on the third tent and the pungent reek of decay flooded out. Snorting to clear his head from the sudden assault he tossed the hide aside to air out and looked inside. Only a single mech was slumped against the left side of the tent. The right was painted with a spray of energon. Muttering a curse, Ratchet moved to the left side to cut down the hides that weren't touching the body. The energon had baked too long in the sun to ever be scrubbed out of the hides and whatever was touching the body would also be ruined by the decay. He counted only four hides, plus the one he'd already cut down, that they'd get any use out of. The second hide dropped and a spear of sunlight fell on the sacked interior. The sandy floor was exposed where blankets and furs had been piled in a corner. The only blanket still spread out on the floor was the one under the dead mech. The edges of the blanket were a bright yellow, but the energon that had soaked it turned it a sickly turquoise. He started on the third hide when movement in his peripheral caught his attention. Whirling around to face the semi-lit interior he exchanged the short utility knife for one of his longer fighting knives.

The tent was silent and still but Ratchet moved with trained silence to another hide near the body. He wanted more light in the interior, he'd been in the sun too long and the second it would take for his optics to adjust would be just long enough for something to attack. It had been careless of him not to check them. The theory of a traveler passing through in the night to explain the fire had lulled him into a false sense of security.

He stared at the still gloomy interior. Creeping forward he cut the fastenings of another hide and ripped it down leaving the interior fully exposed to the light. The violence seemed amplified under the light. And on the mech's neck was a dark piece of fabric that looked very much like a poorly folded bandage.

Seeing him with a fighting knife in hand Charging Wind came up near him with her blade tipped stave held to the side. "Burrow rat?" she murmured. Ratchet didn't put his knife away as he stepped in. They'd be laughing at him for orns if it was just a stray gust of wind or a scavenger beast, but his pride wasn't worth anything if a raider still remained at the camp and came up behind one of them. Charging Wind didn't come in with him, her staff would be a hindrance in the small space. The mech against the wall was very much dead, given the fabric on his neck, he was the one most likely to have painted the other wall and ground with energon. Ratchet approached the pile of blankets and dropped to all fours. If someone was hiding under them they'd lunge for his legs first to knock him off balance. Now if they tried that he'd cut their lines before they got an arm around him. In one quick smooth motion he reached forward and ripped the top blanket back.

A high squeal of fear startled him more than any attack ever could. Terrified wide turquoise optics stared back at him from a tiny face. Fluid filled the optics and spilled over down his face as he wailed again with such terror Ratchet dropped his knife. The sound was like a saqr's talons in his processor. Even Charging Wind swore behind him. Like a flip being switched Ratchet's lifetime of healing training kicked in. "Shh, mechling, I won't hurt you," he said in his softest voice.

Despite his gift with the healing tinctures, he'd been told by everyone he'd ever treated that his idea of "gentle" was like being dragged through thorny bushes. But he tried, he tried very hard for the sake of the young mech he'd frightened to be soft. The young mech wailed again, tears streaking his face and Ratchet tried harder to find something, anything, in him that wasn't jagged as a mountain or scorching as the suns. "I didn't mean to frighten you, mechling. Shh, now. Shh." His mentor, Leaping Sand, was better at easing the fear caused by wounds and pain, and he wished desperately that she was with him.

The mechling cringed back when Ratchet started to reach forward. Forcing his frustration back down he withdrew his hand back to his side, making sure to keep it away from the handle of his other dagger. The mechling watched his hand and finally blinked rapidly half a dozen times. "Meyoh?" he said in a scared whisper. Ratchet blinked twice himself, he'd never heard the word. Tilting his head a fraction to the side his processor raced trying to figure out what he'd done to calm the mechling even that much. The mechling had small glyphs scarred across his forehead that seemed to glow in the shadow behind the blankets. Ratchet couldn't read them and they didn't look anything like the languages he knew from the desert tribes.

"Meyoh?" Ratchet repeated softly, hoping he wasn't saying he was a night monster. The syllables were a bit awkward in his mouth, smooth and flowing when his language used short and sharp words. The mechling pointed at his side and repeated the soft word. Glancing down he found saw the handle of his dagger and below that three tightly tied pouches where he kept his most common ingredients for healing. Tied to his waist with a thin piece of hide they were usually hidden under his cloak but at some point he'd pushed the fabric back.

The mechling reached down where Ratchet couldn't see. Ratchet didn't tense. The mechling was too small to do anything to hurt him. Even if he came back with a knife he had to climb over the pile of blankets and furs to get to him. The mechling held out his hand a moment later; a small bright red and blue pouch in his palm. "Meyoh," he said with more confidence. The pouch was electric with colors, so bright it stung to look at it too long and embroidered in bright gold thread with intricate designs of animals Ratchet didn't recognize. Ratchet's pouches were dark brown and plain, but the mechling seemed to think they had similar function. The mechling reached down again and set a bowl too big for his small hands on the pile of blankets and furs. The outer side of the bowl was painted with the same bright red and blue but with simple geometric shapes instead of animals. Inside, the bowl was smeared with the same greenish-yellow paste he'd seen on the bodies.

Ratchet's spark squeezed so hard and tight in his chest he thought it might fracture. He fought the urge to turn and look at the body against the wall not wanting to draw the mechling's attention to it. He already knew what it looked like anyway, his memory especially with something so recently seen, was diamond sharp. The oddly folded bandage starting to peel off as the poorly mixed poultice dried in the heat. Like the other three in the tent. Not an incompetent healer, but a young one. In the tight ball that his spark had become Ratchet found a small piece of warmth, something soft among the rough edges. "Oh little one, you tried so hard," he murmured. Holding out his hand he called the small mech to him once more. Still hesitant, the mechling nonetheless crawled over the pile of blankets.

The front of his small poncho was stiff with dried fluids and smears of the paste he'd tried to make. Ratchet's fingers were rough from his daily training with the warriors but his touch was light and gentle. The mechling cringed close to the ground when Ratchet touched him but when Ratchet didn't hurt him he pointed to Ratchet's pouches and repeated, "Meyoh."

"Yes," Ratchet said softly. "Meyoh." The mechling didn't fight when he gathered him into his arms and stood. His tiny body was heavier than he expected after Suns knew how many orns alone in the camp. Ratchet walked with him slowly, making sure to block the body from the mechling's sight, though he couldn't explain why. Clearly the mechling had been with at least some of them as they died. The small piece of warmth in his spark, like the first rays of sun at dawn, wanted to shield him from the horrors he had been living with. Leaping Sand would call it the healer in him, though others might take more convincing. Most in the clan were convinced that while he was gifted in healing, he lacked the spark for it. He was just as proficient with weapons, was often mistaken as a warrior first instead of a healer.

The small mechling clung to his neck, his head pressed under Ratchet's chin, as they left the tent. Silent as the dead around him, the rest of the raiding party watched with curious and suspicious optics. Charging Wind was the only one brave enough to approach. Quick optics took in the mechling's size. "Not even old enough for first colors," she said in a soft voice. The mechling squeaked and dug his small fingers into Ratchet, pressing close to his spark as if he could disappear from the world if he was close enough to the mech. Ratchet put his other arm around his shoulders and held him against his spark.

"Ratchet," Whistler said in an uncharacteristically serious voice, "if you take him, he will be yours." The mech was the same age as Ratchet and Charging Wind but was often mistaken for younger. He was the leader of their raiding party but everyone knew it was more of a test to see if the young warrior was capable of leading. And as leader, he was making sure Ratchet understood the depth of his responsibility. Ratchet looked down at the small mechling peeking at the others in the group. He couldn't just return to the clan and hand the mechling off to someone else. If he took the mechling from this place he would be honor bound to raise him, to teach him. As a young unmated warrior it was a massive responsibility. He had only received his blue band as a warrior three seasons past. It would be another seven at least before he would be allowed to take a mate. Bright turquoise optics looked up at him shimmering in the sunlight. Drops of dried energon speckled one side of the mechling's face.

The oldest member of their party, Rockfall, said not unkindly, "He is small and easily startled. He will not make a good warrior. It would be kinder to return his spark to the stars with his clan." Ratchet felt the rapid flutter of a small spark against his chest. The mechling was light in his arms; he probably hadn't eaten since the raiders came through. But there was still strength in his small body. Strength enough he had tried to save his clan as their lives bled out. Ratchet looked at Rockfall and Whistler. "I am a warrior," he said softly, "but first I am a healer." Tightening his arm a bit more around the mechling's shoulders he said, "And so is he." With those words he felt the thin chains of honor wrap around him. Until one of them breathed their last, they were bound together. The mechling in his arms was small and light but a heavy weight pressed down on Ratchet's shoulders. Whistler blinked once in surprise but nodded slowly. Rockfall looked like he disagreed, but Whistler had already approved. He couldn't say anything without dishonoring Whistler. His lips pressed into a thin line and his optics told Ratchet he had made a mistake.

"Let's see if we can find something clean for him to wear," Charging Wind said nodding at the crust of dried energon on the hem of the mechling's poncho. "He'll have to wait a few breems for us to get up to the sledge and our packs for food." Ratchet nodded and walked with her to one of the other tents that had been stripped of its hides. Rockfall returned to the tent he'd been stripping but Whistler stood and looked around the camp a moment longer.

"Ratchet," Whistler called jogging up next to him. He walked close enough their shoulders brushed. The mechling in Ratchet's arms watched him warily, wriggling to the other side of Ratchet's body and clinging close to his spark once more. Ratchet shot Whistler a glare, something he could get away with since they had known each other since they were mechlings. If he'd tried the same thing with Rockfall he would have found himself slammed to the ground. "You're certain about this," Whistler said not reacting to the glare, genuine concern in his dark blue optics. "Charging Wind is right, he's not even old enough for his first colors. And you've never been…let's say _fond_ of having little ones underfoot." All true things, Ratchet was still a little surprised himself he was keeping the mechling.

Giving him a merciful death and returning him to his ancestors probably was the best thing to do for him. The Lean Season with little rain and scarce hunting had just begun. The clan would be stretched thin as it was and he bringing back an unknown mechling too young to earn his meals was going to stretch them even more. He looked down at the mechling again watching Whistler with more curiosity than fear now and knew sending the mechling to the stars was not an option. "I'm certain," he said softly. "He survived a slaughter and a septorn or more of being completely alone out here. The Suns saw fit to watch over him until we arrived, I'll not go against their will now."

Whistler considered that for a long moment while Charging Wind ducked into a tent and rummaged around looking for something for the mechling to wear. "You're right," he said at last looking around at the bodies covered in fine layers of sand and dust as they rusted. "All of that and here he is still alive. He would've been easy prey for the night hunters, so the six moons watched over him as well. The ancestors are not ready for him to arrive yet."

Charging Wind emerged from the tent with a shrug. "Nothing. He couldn't have been the only little one here." A frown creased her forehead. "Do you remember seeing any small clothes while you were stealing that blanket from me?"

Ratchet snorted at her but thought back to the tents they'd gone through and frowned as well. "No, I only saw adult sizes." That was odd. Their clan had almost as many little ones as they did adults.

Whistler crossed his arms and looked around. "There are few bodies for as many tents as there are," he said softly. "Whoever survived the attack is likely part of a slave caravan already." Ratchet and Charging Wind both flared their fins at that. Those clans that sullied their honor with slave trading had sparks too dark to ever return to the skies and ancestors.

"I doubt they let the little ones pack a change of clothes before taking them away," Charging Wind said, the snarl in her words not directed at Whistler but the dark sparks that had taken this clan captive. The mechling clung closer to Ratchet despite the heat until it was clear Charging Wind wasn't going to attack anything. Ratchet stroked a hand down his back in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

Whistler nodded in agreement and his brow furrowed as well. "This clan is odd," he said after another quick look around. "Did you notice how little there is? The pottery we found is masterfully made and painted in shining colors, but there's nothing…extra. No scrolls, no trinkets, there's nothing."

"They were attacked by raiders," Ratchet said.

Whistler gave him an exasperated look. "Don't be difficult, that's her job," he said pointing at Charging Wind. "If you use that head of yours and actually think, you'll know what I mean."

Ratchet rolled his optics but did consider what he had found in the two tents they'd gone through. Blankets, furs, pottery, and only a few garments. All things absolutely essential for travel. Ratchet's clan traveled light, but everyone had a couple things they didn't actually _need_. Like Charging Wind's chest; it was pretty but not something she needed to survive. Ratchet had two colorful tapestries he'd traded for that he didn't use for anything and scrolls with stories of distant lands written on them. None of those things would hold any real interest to raiders. The point was to get essentials, not bog down your clan with useless things. "They were moving fast," Ratchet said, but which way was impossible to tell and whether they were running from or to something would also remain a mystery.

"And I haven't seen even traces of beasts of burden," Charging Wind said tapping the end of her staff against the ground. "In a raid this brutal I can't believe at least one wasn't caught by a bolt or startled and charged through a tent." But they had to have had them, the poles for the tents were too long and heavy to have been moved quickly without a sledge. Ratchet looked down at the mechling drowsing in his arms and wished he could ask him questions about what happened.

"The language he uses is not one I've heard before," Ratchet said softly not disturbing the mechling's nap. "And he has a pouch with animals on it I haven't seen before as well."

The three looked around a bit more and the _wrongness_ of the camp that Ratchet had ignored washed over him. It made his exoform prickle and a crushing need to _get away_ drove itself into his processor, like hearing the warning hiss of a cahm thueban curled under a bush. "A clan moving fast," Ratchet murmured as his processor grappled with the problem. "They had to have used beasts, but…" he saw no tie-outs, didn't remember seeing any when he'd observed the camp from the hill. Raiders wouldn't have bothered with stakes, they would have just tied the animals to their own. Beasts of burden were not particularly smart or loyal, once they were settled they wouldn't have cared where they were going. "They must have set the animals loose before arriving in this place."

"But _why_?" Charging Wind said. "They wanted to move fast, but they set their animals loose, they might as well have tied stones to their feet. Even with two dozen warriors, moving these tent poles—"

"Unless they weren't taking the tents," Ratchet interrupted. Charging Wind stopped and both she and Whistler stared at him as they thought. "They set the animals loose to confuse the trail; the animals wouldn't have separated. Leaving a camp set up here would have confused it even more. If they were skilled enough to cover their tracks they could have disappeared in any direction."

"But they were attacked before they could leave," Whistler finished softly.

"Some of them had to have left then," Charging Wind added. "No small clothes, I don't know their markings, but these bodies out here are tall and strong. I would guess they are warriors." She turned to the small mechling in Ratchet's arms. "But why didn't they take him?" she asked, more to herself it sounded like.

"And yet there are those that were killed in the tents," Whistler said. "If they were that certain they were going to be attacked they should have had their weapons at their sides, ready at the first call to run out." He looked very troubled by that.

Ratchet shifted the mechling a bit higher on his hip. "That's assuming there was a call," he said. "If their watch was killed before any could alert them then it makes sense that those who were recharging were caught off guard."

"Cowards," Charging Wind snapped. Ratchet agreed. Attacking warriors while they recharged was a dishonor to the fallen warriors as well as the attackers. Slinking through the shadows like a night monster and killing mechs while they were as helpless as a little one was not a taint that happened overnight. "And they took who was left alive to the slave markets. Should the Suns see fit for us to find them, we are honor bound to wipe their filth from the sands," she said, amethyst optics flashing bright in the sunlight.

"I'll take this to North Wind, but we don't know who this dishonorable clan was. They've left no clue, not even a broken bolt." Whistler said glancing at the mechling in Ratchet's arms.

"They were looking for something," Ratchet murmured. "The way the blankets tossed and things broken…if they were simply raiding the camp they would have taken more care. You noted yourself Whistler that the pottery is well made and unfamiliar to these lands. That makes them useful and different enough for a good trade, yet most of what I found was broken by careless hands and feet."

Whistler looked up to the suns as he thought. "I…I don't know, Ratchet, Charging Wind. Should we take the hides to trade then? Whoever this clan is they'll know these hides if they come across it again and they'll trace it back to our clan." That was a leader's decision, one Whistler would have to make, but the mech had been Ratchet's friend since they were small. And no leader stood alone. This was a decision that would impact all of their clan, not just the small raiding party.

"I think," Charging Wind said slowly, "that if these low alkilab that attacked this clan didn't want anyone to find what happened here they would have burned it."

Ratchet nodded after a few more seconds of thought. "I agree. No matter who attacked them, they had to know leaving a camp like this out in the open eventually someone would come across it and go through it. So they found what they were looking for, took their slaves, and left." Whistler gave them both grateful looks and nodded.

"Let's be done with this quick, this place is…not right," Whistler said. Ratchet and Charging Wind nodded without needing anything more said. The mechling woke up a bit when Ratchet turned away from Whistler and then pushed at Ratchet's arm and chest trying to get down. Ratchet set him on his wobbly legs and the mechling darted to the tent behind them. Following a bit slower Ratchet didn't see anything different about the tent than any of the others. Charging Wind cut the first of the hides loose flooding the interior with light and a surprised chirp from the mechling.

"Sorry little one," Charging Wind said with a smile as she continued slice through the ropes. The mechling pushed aside a few blankets to the sand beneath and then dug his hands in and pulled out a small beaten pack that looked like a burrow rat had gotten ahold of it. The colorful cloth was dull with the coating of sand and dirt but the mechling flipped the top open and pulled out a few dried strips of meat.

"So that's how you're still alive," Ratchet said. "The raiders missed a pack." Charging Wind paused in her work to see what the mechling was doing. The mechling didn't pay much attention to her, more interested in devouring his small meal. The strips were gone in seconds and he poked around in the bag for more before sighing and setting it aside.

Charging Wind said, "I doubt that pack carried as much as a little one eats for even two orns much less the septorn or more he was out here." She went back to cutting the hides down and the mechling stood up and left the tent heading for the one Rockfall and Whistler were taking down. Ratchet followed watching the mechling. Little ones ate a lot and raiders would've taken every pack they found in hopes of bolstering their own stores. That even the one pack had managed to get hidden was impressive. He couldn't believe any others had been though. Still, the mechling ducked into the tent.

Rockfall and Whistler watched him rummage around and gave Ratchet questioning looks. "One of them managed to hide a pack with food in it," he said gesturing back at the tent Charging Wind was picking apart. "But he's still hungry and looking for more." All three looked in the tent as the mechling pushed all the blankets aside and dug around in the sand. Ratchet's brow furrowed as he looked over the ransacked interior. He glanced back at the first two tents they'd gone through. "Is this what you've been doing for—"

"By the Suns, there's one in here, too!" Whistler said interrupting Ratchet. He looked back and indeed the mechling was pulling a small pack out of the sand, this one in better condition than the last. The mechling flipped the top open and pulled out more dried strips of meat as well as a few other dried foods Ratchet couldn't readily identify and a water skin.

"How the frag did anymech miss something like that?" Rockfall said shaking his head. "That pack probably has two orns worth of stores in it and who knows what else."

"Well," Whistler said. "We take furs if they're worth trading or blankets if they're pretty, but I've never dug around in the sand _under_ the blankets looking for things." Rockfall considered that for a few seconds and nodded. Ratchet had never considered it either, although it was a simple way of hiding things. It would be something their clan would now think to do now that they'd seen how effective it was.

Another thought occurred to Ratchet. "We never think to look because warriors don't waste time hiding things." He frowned and looked at the bodies scattered in the open but the several others dead in their tents. Rockfall and Whistler were quiet and looked at the campsite with him. "But they did. They died hiding these packs. Why?" Food was important, but even in the leanest seasons a colony of burrow rats could be rousted to make a tough meal. There was no reason for the warriors to die in their tents when they could have faced the enemy and possibly fought them off and kept their lives and their stores.

"If you had a little one with you and knew you were going to die, you'd make certain he would be able to eat, wouldn't you?" Rockfall said softly. "What's important is not always the enemy, sometimes; it's making sure those that live continue to do so." A chill raced up Ratchet's back even as the suns warmed his cloak uncomfortably. "I'm certain they left enough packs out to convince the raiders they had everything but it wouldn't be hard to stuff those packs with stones or sand and bury food enough for the little one."

"But…to do that, they would have had to do it before the attack." Whistler looked very much like the young warrior he was when he looked at Rockfall with wide optics. "There would be no time once alarm was raised to repack, bury, and throw down the blankets again. One of the raiders would have caught at least one in the middle of burying or covering."

Rockfall's frown deepened and he nodded. "Nothing about this camp, this attack, is right. Something more than packs of food is hidden here. Let's be done with this quickly." He and Whistler returned to cutting down the hides while the mechling was drinking from the water skin looking twice as drowsy as he had before his meal.

Ratchet ducked in and crouched next to him. "Why don't we find the rest of these packs," he said, softly tapping the dusty pack. The mechling stopped the water skin and put it back in the pack. Ratchet closed the top and slung it over his shoulder. He didn't expect it to have as much weight but didn't stop to go through it. They would do that later when they set up their own camp away from this place that wasn't right.

The mechling went to each of the tents and dug around in the sand pulling out at least two packs from each, all of various sizes and colors. Some were empty, but Ratchet kept them anyway because once the dust was beaten off them they would be pretty and unique. Something worth trading either in his clan or with another.

He made a small pile by where they'd entered the camp of the packs and by the time Whistler called for them to get ready to leave there was a pile of more than a dozen. "Traveling fast and light but with all these packs," Ratchet thought out loud to himself. He looked down at the mechling he had cradled in his arms happily drinking from the water skin again. "Your clan makes no sense, mechling. Not a bit." But whatever preparations the warriors had made Rockfall was right. They had made certain whoever was left alive would stay that way without the slow death of starvation hanging over them. The mechling held the water skin out to him and he shook his head slightly. Putting the stopper back in the mechling curled against Ratchet's chest with a wide yawn.

"We're going up to grab the sledge," Whistler said looking at the pile of packs with his optic ridges raised. " _All_ of these were buried?" Ratchet nodded. "The mechling could have held on for a full moon turn with all of that." If all the packs had food it was true. Many of them had been heavy and he'd heard the distinctive slosh of water as well as he'd moved them.

"He would have run out eventually," Ratchet said and by that time the warriors around him would be nothing but rusted struts, the energon staining the ground bleached white by the suns.

"They were probably hoping at least one would survive to take care of him," Rockfall said walking by. The mechling woke up enough to watch them leave and then looked up at Ratchet and then down at the bags. He realized that they weren't going to be in the camp much longer and blinked himself more awake.

The mechling squirmed to be put down and Ratchet let him. "We do need to get you out of those clothes," he said to the mechling. "You shouldn't wear death on you." The mechling looked up at him tilting his head to and fro as he tried to make sense of the unfamiliar words. After a second he darted from Ratchet toward the tent he'd been found in.

"What will you do if your charge refuses to leave the dead?" Rockfall asked, with a trace of sharp amusement in his voice. Ratchet didn't answer and followed the mechling. He heard the mechling speaking soft words either to himself or to the dead Ratchet didn't know.

He looked inside and found the mechling had knocked over the pile of furs and blankets and uncovered yet another small pack and an assortment of jewel colored pouches. "Still hiding one more?" he asked softly. The mechling continued speaking to himself as he carefully put the small pouches in his pack. He picked up one that looked mostly empty and frowned a bit but put it in the bag anyway. Ratchet felt his spark squeeze once more as he watched the mechling. Ratchet had gone through the same motions countless times as their clan moved. The mechling's world was in chaos, but in this one thing he had found something familiar and Ratchet didn't move to interrupt him or try to hurry him along.

The mechling didn't dally around and had his pack done quickly, obviously used to a very quick move out. Ratchet again pondered over who this clan had been and what had driven them to move with such haste. The mechling set his pack in front of Ratchet and then darted back in and took off his soiled poncho. Down his back he had odd glyphs that looked like they'd been cut into his frame and stood out bright silver against his ash colored frame. Ratchet thought they matched what was on his head but really they all looked about the same to him. He dug around in the toppled mountain of furs and blankets until he pulled out another clean looking poncho, this one a beautiful and distinctive sun gold and fire red. "You had clean clothes all this time and you wore that?" Ratchet said softly nodding at the poncho. The mechling looked at him and then at the poncho and then back at Ratchet.

Picking up the soiled poncho he took it over to the body against the wall and arranged the garment next to it with the filthy front down in the pool of dried energon. Had the mechling still been in it he would have looked very much like another body. Ratchet's spark constricted and chilled to an ice ball not even the suns' warmth could touch. "Tokoh," the mechling said pointing to the adult's rusting body.

"Oh mechling," Ratchet whispered. The mechling looked at the adult a few seconds longer before he returned to readying for the journey. Ratchet tried to breathe past the pain in his chest. He kept his optics off the picture of death against the wall and on the mechling as he tied a cord around his waist that surprisingly had a small sheath attached to it. An unadorned bone handle stuck out from the top and the mechling took a breem to make sure it wouldn't get in the way as he moved his arms. Next he dug around in the furs again and pulled out short staff dyed the same colors as his cloak. "Your clan enjoyed colors. You'll be disappointed we don't have more," Ratchet told him softly. Ratchet's clan stuck to shades of brown with the occasional black or dark blue. The mechling with his bright poncho and staff would stand out like a gem against coal.

Running over to Ratchet he looked up imploringly and pointed to the loose laces of his poncho. Kneeling, Ratchet tightened them a bit and tied them in a loose knot. He liked how the poncho was cut. Lacing up the front, it was snug around the mechling's chest, but beneath the laces the fabric was split and hung more like a cloak on either side of his legs making it easy to walk without getting tangled in the fabric. He would also have no problem reaching his small knife, Ratchet noticed with even greater appreciation. He might have to ask one of the seamstresses to copy the design; he was smitten with it. "Ready, mechling?" he murmured once the laces were tied and the mechling pulled up a hood to hide his head from the suns. Wiggling into his pack his bright optics looked up at Ratchet from the shadow of his hood and he said a word in his own language that Ratchet guessed meant he was ready.

Outside, Rockfall and Whistler had the sledge outside the circle of tents and were busy piling the hides they'd collected on it. Charging Wind saw the mechling first and a bright smile lit her face. "Well, you look much better now," Charging Wind said crouching down and looking over the mechling. "So many colors," she said. "We'll have to keep him in middle or one of those sharp opticked treasure hunters might swoop down and snatch him up." She laughed as she stood again but the sound was kind and the mechling looked from her to Ratchet trying to figure out what he'd done that was so amusing. Ratchet smiled down at him and stroked the top of his hood. Looking up at the sky Ratchet gauged how close the suns were to the horizon. He was confident the raiders that had destroyed the camp wouldn't come back, but there was no reason to tempt catastrophe. And the wrongness still prickled his armor. He wanted to be well away from the camp turned graveyard before the moons rose.

Whistler tossed the last of the hides on their sledge and Rockfall threw a lashing to him so they could be secured. "Is your little one ready?" Whistler asked with a smile kicking up the corner of his mouth. "He looks like those jewels Rain Bringer is always telling us about in his stories." Yes, the mechling was going to be quite a sight at their camp of browns and blacks. Rockfall seemed to think the same thing as he looked over the mechling's garments. The old warrior shook his head and continued tightening the ropes until he was satisfied.

"You know what this means," Charging Wind said with mischief in her optics. "We've finally come back with hidden treasure." Rockfall snorted but Whistler laughed. Ratchet rolled his optics and called the mechling to follow as Whistler and Rockfall took the leads to the sledge and started dragging it to the dune. The mechling gripped the edge of Ratchet's cloak as they walked. He looked at one of the bodies tumbled in the doorway of a tent and his optics dimmed a shade.

Ratchet realized with a kick that while the mechs and femmes left to rust in the sun were unknown to them, the mechling would know each one by name. It was easy to forget at times that the bodies raiders left behind had names and families. And the mechling had tried to save some of their lives. As a healer, Leaping Sand had prepared Ratchet for being the one to hear the last breaths of life, but not until he'd gotten his second color. The mechling was still two full seasons away from even his first color and he'd taken the burden of being with the fallen as their sparks returned to the stars. Ratchet put a gentle hand on the back of the mechling's head wishing they could speak to each other.

The first time Ratchet had been present as a warrior died he'd been convinced for almost a moon turn it was his fault, his inexperience that had caused it. Leaping Sand had spoken to him every orn until the fire of his grief and guilt had been tamed. If the mechling was grappling with even half of what Ratchet had gone through he needed to hear the same thing Ratchet had. But there was no one to speak it to him. Not in a language he understood at least. His spark ached knowing there was little he could do to help the mechling after he had survived so much. He was a strong spark, but even the strongest warriors needed to lower their burdens every now and then or eventually it would crush them.

The mechling didn't stop again or look around at what he was leaving. He didn't use his little staff to walk but carried it parallel to the ground as Charging Wind did. And in the midst of his helpless pain, Ratchet's curiosity about the mechling deepened. If he was trained to use a staff and the little knife strapped to his hip they may well be bringing back hidden treasure to camp. A clever little treasure with knowledge of healing and the capability of becoming a sturdy warrior.

Whistler and Rockfall slowed on the incline as they took their time digging their feet into the slippery sand. A misplaced step by either would send both tumbling back down. Charging Wind sprinted past them and crested the hill in seconds where she paused and surveyed the high ground. Once she was satisfied nothing was lying in wait she strode forward and disappeared from view. Ratchet kept his pace and an optic on the mechling in case he needed to pick him up and carry him up the hill. The little mech surprised him though by crawling up the incline on all fours; perhaps not graceful or dignified, but effective.

They reached the top the same time as Whistler and Rockfall but while the other two warriors continued forward with Charging Wind keeping pace ahead, the mechling stopped and looked back. Ratchet stopped with him. Already starting to fall in shadow below the incline, the bare struts of the tents looked even more haunting than they had at mid-orn. The bodies in the middle of the camp were easier to see, the energon painted on the interiors exposed to any who would wander past. The mechling stared at the camp for several breems, sadness etched on his young face.

Ratchet kneeled next to him and put a hand on his waist. Even had they spoken the same language Ratchet wouldn't have known what to say to one so young. For all who lived in the desert, death was as much a part of life as the suns rising. But the little mechling with his colorful clothes and unfamiliar language was not part of the desert. He was a small gem somehow caught in the wind and blown deep into a new land.

Finally, the mechling said a soft word and looked up at Ratchet. Sorrow made his young optics look like older than Rockfall's. Impulse had Ratchet pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I will keep you safe," he murmured. The fine chains of honor that bound him to the mechling thickened but didn't gain weight. Under his palm he could feel the pulse of the mechling's spark, steady and quick. "Come with me, little one," he said standing. The mechling looked back once more but reached up and held on to the edge of Ratchet's cloak and walked with him.

 **oOo**

 **A/N:** New Year, New Story!

At the behest of **recognizer of unrecognizable** __I read **nltdr** 's _Iacon Prophecy_ over on Archive of Our Own and absolutely loved the concept of a primitive setting for the Transformers. And since I've been trying to think of a good story for Ratchet set in Ahnkmor everything just fell into place for this story. Lots of OCs in the beginning, but we'll pick up some more known characters in later chapters.

This will be a slow update, but it's been outlined to the end so it's all a matter of finding the time to write.

Thank you for reading and reviewing as well as following and favoriting!


	2. Chapter 2

Ratchet didn't think the dead were far enough behind them, but the suns were saying their final goodnight to the world and moving at night was a danger they didn't need to risk. The fading gold sky matched the deep gold and amber of the sand around them. The earliest stars were just visible as the six moons rose to take their watch in the sky. Of the six, only Namurr's moon was still bright, the others were showing slivers and half faces as they turned their faces away from the world. Another three septorns and Namurr would be dark while the smallest moon, Alffar, would be bright. It was a constant game the moons played with each other.

The mechling lay on the sledge drowsing as it bumped and scraped over the ground. They walked parallel to the dunes instead of trying to clamber over them while they looked for a good place to make camp. The mechling had slipped his little staff through a loop on his pack that seemed to be made for just that purpose and hopped on the sledge when Ratchet and Charging Wind took over for Rockfall and Whistler. Ratchet looked over his shoulder on occasion to make certain the mechling wasn't in danger of rolling off while he recharged, but he hadn't moved much since he settled down on the packs and hides. As one, the group angled for a squat tree that had managed to find water enough to survive in the sea of heat and sand. A few mid-sized rocks were scattered around it that hadn't yet been worn to nothing by the constant wind. It was a good enough place to bed down for a night; the stones would keep the suns' warmth as cold night raced in. They wouldn't bother digging for the water though, the tree's roots probably went two mechs deep to reach what it needed. They had plenty in their water skins and also in the packs they'd taken from the camp.

A cahm thueban slithered out from between the stones when Whistler and Rockfall stomped their feet and smacked the sides of the stones. Sand gold with startling bright red bands, it was as long as Ratchet's leg and one strike from it could kill any of the warriors, but they rarely pursued confrontation. This one was mature enough not to challenge the larger creatures that decided the rocks would be their recharging place for the night. Without a sound it zigzagged its way into the night to find another warm place to hunt.

The mechling woke when the stomping started and watched the cahm thueban with wide optics as it left its hiding place. He looked at the ground with more trepidation than he'd had earlier and Ratchet laughed softly. "It won't be back tonight, too many big bodies. Come little one," he said. The mechling looked at him and then at the dark crevices in the rocks once more before hesitantly climbing down.

Charging Wind picked up one of the packs as soon as the mechling was down. "Let's see what's to eat," she said tossing it to Whistler. She handed another to Rockfall and Ratchet picked up his own. The mechling still crept around the space with wary optics and his staff held tight in one hand. Rockfall set the pack aside and dug aside enough sand and dirt there was a small pit to kindle a fire in. Ratchet handed him a few pieces of kindling they'd added to the sledge as they walked for just such a reason and sat down after making sure the mechling wasn't poking his hand in the rock crevices. There were some dangerous things that didn't find new places to sleep just because there was a lot of noise.

Sweet smoke from the branches they'd collected on their way into the dunes soon filled the air and a small flicker of flame began to lick out from the center of the pit. Overhead the sky was a deep violet and navy blue, the stars coming out more and more and the moons brighter. Rockfall started going through his pack in the slow methodical way all the old warriors had. Whistler hadn't quite gotten to that point yet and simply upended his scattering the contents on the ground. Rockfall shook his head a little but didn't stop what he was doing.

Tidy by nature, Ratchet went through his pack much the same way Rockfall did while Charging Wind set hers between her legs and pawed the contents out occasionally stopping to examine things. Most of what Ratchet pulled out was food as well as a full water skin. He looked up to the stars and sent quiet thanks to the warrior that had packed the bag. This pack alone could have fed the mechling for two or three orns. As it was, the mechling crept under Ratchet's arm and grabbed a piece of dried fruit before retreating back to his timid exploration of the rocks. Ratchet kept an optic on him as he continued to go through the bag.

At the bottom he found a thick stack of something soft like the finest of tanned hides. Curiosity piqued more by that than any number of food stores he pulled the stack out and found it was a folded piece of hide. Carefully pulling the edges back he felt his spark skip and stutter before restarting twice as fast.

"Ratchet? What is it?" Rockfall asked with some concern. He had no idea what expression was on his face but if it matched the chaos in his spark it had to be something concerning indeed. Processor unable to find words he tilted the hide toward the rest of the group. Rockfall sucked in a sharp breath and Whistler's optics paled almost as white as the stars.

"Ratchet," Charging Wind said in a shaky voice, he nodded still unable to speak. Firelight flickered over the shining gems nestled in the hide casting a rainbow of colors over the hide and his arms. Threads of silver and gold chains wove around the jewels. He set the hide on the ground and picked up one of the fine shining strands silver. Twinkling in the firelight like starlight it was attached to a diamond cut like a sun. Hammered pieces of gold pressed along the edge of the diamond gave the sun its rays and the firelight flickering over it made it flash red and gold. "Ratchet…it's…" Charging Wind whispered in a choked voice. The silence over the camp was complete after words failed her.

"That," whispered Whistler after a few breems passed, "is something worth hiding." His voice was rough like Ratchet's and he didn't take his optics off the shimmering diamond. "How many pieces are there?" Ratchet smoothed the hide out on the ground and set the sun diamond on one edge. Picking up a thread of gold several emeralds and rubies came with it. The chain was shorter than the silver one. The gems it looked like would rest above the shoulders while the sun diamond was meant to rest against a spark. He set that to the other side of the hide afraid if he held it much longer he would drop it from his numb fingers. The last piece he drew up was thick with small sapphires, diamonds, and pieces of jet. They shimmered and glittered like sun on water in his hands, the threads of silver and gold twining around them were fine as spider silk. The threads were too short to fit around a neck, but the way the pieces dangled would make it an awkward bracelet.

"How do you suppose you wear it?" Charging Wind asked still staring in awe at the three treasures. Ratchet shook his head. He'd never seen anything like the gems in front of him. He knew them only from their descriptions in the stories he liked to listen to and read. The mechling came back to his side and looked at all of them curiously as they stared at the jewels.

Ratchet looked at him still trying to get his spark to pulse properly. "Did you know these were here?" he asked uselessly. The mechling tilted his head to the side once and then his optics brightened. He took the sapphire strand from Ratchet and held it up around his neck. On an adult, the strands wouldn't reach even halfway around, but on his slender neck they fit perfectly. The jewels fell in a cascade of color down his neck to his shoulders.

"That's for a-a little one," Rockfall sputtered, all the older warrior's decorum was gone in the face of what they were looking at. Once the mechling was certain they understood what the gems were for he dropped them almost carelessly back on the hide and sat down next to Ratchet and picked up another piece of fruit. Ratchet winced a little when the jewels hit the hide with a soft tinkle.

"He doesn't care at all," Whistler said watching the mechling. "What lands does he come from that seeing these things is-is-is like us seeing rocks!" Ratchet closed his optics and forced himself to take a deep breath. Hot air rushed from his vent and he felt a bit more in control and the suffocating spell the gems had cast was broken.

"Hide those well," Rockfall said, voice still a bit faint. "And don't pull them out again until we return to camp. No sense in catching anymech's optic with them." Ratchet nodded and carefully put the other two necklaces in the center with the sapphire one and rewrapped them as he'd found the bundle. Both Whistler and Charging Wind returned to their packs with far more care than they'd had before. Whistler was looking at the messy pile in front of him with a slight grimace and Charging Wind set hers upright as Ratchet and Rockfall had theirs. "Suns above, buried treasure indeed," Rockfall muttered returning to his pack.

Ratchet swallowed a slightly giddy laugh and reached back into the bag where his fingers touched an unfamiliar texture. Pulling his hand out with care he found a scroll, but made of material he'd never seen before. Curiosity a rabid beast inside him he slowly uncurled the short roll and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Black ink ran across the scroll in graceful lines and loops and dots. There was a vibrant yellow flower drawn in the top right corner and below the writing was a matching flower in red. "Words, perhaps?" he said as he carefully turned the scroll sideways hoping maybe the black lines would make sense then.

"What spark stopping treasure is that," Whistler asked with a bit of wariness in his voice.

Ratchet turned the scroll around. "Words, I think, but nothing like I've ever seen." Their clan didn't often write words down because that was just one more thing to carry, but the merchants who came through often wrote things down. He was familiar with their writings even if he couldn't read most of them.

"Those flowers are beautiful," Charging Wind said. "Suns above, I wish we could read it. You think it explains those…things?" He handed the scroll to her and her face lit up as she fingered the unfamiliar material. "This isn't hide," she said with confidence. Then her face scrunched in confusion. "But what is it?" Ratchet shrugged. It was thinner than any hide he'd ever come across and yet sturdy in his hands.

"Is it white?" Rockfall asked, curiosity in his old voice now as well. Ratchet and Charging Wind both nodded. The mystery only deepened with that and the scroll was passed around for everyone to touch and look at. "None of this feels right," Rockfall said as he handed the scroll back to Ratchet. "That camp, that pack, even him," the old mech said pointing at the mechling watching all of them with puzzlement.

"Well, we've found extra supplies," Whistler said nodding at the packs. "And we've got hides to trade, no reason for us to wander the desert any longer. We'll get back to the clan and maybe one of the other warriors like Rain Bringer or Red Spool will recognize the words."

Rockfall gave the younger mech a slight smile and clapped him on the shoulder. "Sound advice from a strong leader," he said. It took Whistler several seconds to realize the high compliment had been paid to him and then a delighted grin broke out on his face. Charging Wind said something rude but Ratchet wasn't paying attention to them because the mechling was crawling into his lap. A tired yawn and exhaustion dark optics glanced up at him a second before the mechling snuggled tight against his chest and let out a long sigh. Ratchet wrapped one arm around him carefully and started repacking the pack with one hand while Whistler and Charging Wind devolved into little ones right in front of Rockfall. The old warrior rolled his optics skyward but a smile was still tugging the corner of his mouth as he also repacked his pack.

"Should we go through the others?" Whistler asked even as Charging Wind jumped to her feet and ran over to the sledge to get another pack. She set a small one next to Ratchet and kept a big one for herself. Whistler glared at her. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for treasure," she said settling down. "Ratchet already found treasure, so he gets the little packs, now it's our turn." Flipping open the top she set aside the rations and two water skins. Whistler glared at her a little longer until it became apparent she wasn't going to pay attention to him. With a long sigh, he got to his feet and went to the sledge to pick up packs for him and Rockfall. Ratchet did smirk when he saw Whistler find two of the bigger packs.

Using one hand Ratchet opened his new pack and pulled out a rolled hide. The mechling shivered and tried to scoot closer to him. Tugging his cloak further around he shifted the little mech closer to the side of his body so the thick material would cover him. The mechling tensed until he realized Ratchet wasn't getting up, just keeping him warm. Burrowing against his side under his cloak the mechling drifted back into recharge.

Setting the hide on the ground he slowly unrolled it instead of flicking it like he usually did. Firelight caught the metal instruments inside and his breath caught again. "Suns be _damned_ , you don't get any more packs," Charging Wind growled and glared at him.

A smile worked its way onto Ratchet's face but most of his attention was on the tools gleaming in the low light. "These are…" he gasped. He ran his fingers down one small blade and another curved like a claw. "These are for the deep wounds, the ones that need to be stitched together. The hardest kind of healing," he whispered. He'd never seen the tools in metal. Even Leaping Sand's set was done in bone. He'd been working on trading up to get a set like that since she'd allowed him to heal on his own. The handle to each instrument was carved from flawless moonstone that caught the firelight and glowed in the same way as the sun diamond. His fingertips traced over the polished handles and the sharpness of the blades and needles needed for sewing mechs and femmes back together.

"Leaping Sand might actually fight you for them," Rockfall said. He knew only a little about healing as most warriors picked up on at least some things as they aged, but his appreciation was for how pretty the tools were. Ratchet was caught with how strong the metal was, how sharp, how clean each tool was. Even with Leaping Sand's tools it was hard to scour the energon off without damaging the surface.

Charging Wind let out a long sigh and said, "Well, let's see what other treasure you've managed to find." Her pack was empty beside her and looked to be only water skins and rations. On any other raid it would be a find worth fighting over, but she was looking at Ratchet's pack with intense interest.

Ratchet slowly pulled his hands away from the tools and carefully wrapped them again to keep them as clean as possible. Reaching in again he pulled out three well-worn pouches the same vibrant colors as the ones the mechling had packed. The distinctive spicy odor of healing plants told him what was in each pouch so he didn't bother opening them and set them by the rolled hide. Reaching in again his fingers touched soft hide and his spark skipped a pulse. He hesitated pulling it out until Charging Wind looked like she was ready to tackle him and look in the pack herself.

The hide was a creamy white that Ratchet had never seen before. That alone brought a hush over the campsite once more. Heavy, it bowed under its own weight in his hand. Curled against his side the mechling snored softly and was the only sound heard. Even the wind seemed to be holding itself in check waiting to see what was inside. This hide was folded carefully and Ratchet made certain as he unfolded it he would be able to close it up the same way. The more he unfolded the bigger the hide grew until it was as long as he could stretch his arms but only four hands wide. Setting it down on the ground the other three drew closer to see it better.

"It looks like one of those tapestries you have," Whistler said softly. He ran his fingers over the beautiful landscape depicted. "Ancestors help us, these are real jewels." His hand trembled a little as he drew it away. Ratchet couldn't breathe again. In the top left corner the twin suns were framed between mountains made of diamond that glowed in scintillating rainbows in the firelight. Flowing from the mountains was a river of sapphires all shades of blue that turned it into a deep and frothing body of water as it cascaded down the hide. Along the upper bank of the river fields of emeralds and jade were speckled with flecks of other jewels making it look like a field of flowers. On the lower bank, tree trunks made with dark jewels Ratchet didn't have a name for were topped with more shining emeralds.

The river tapered off not far from the diamond mountains and the lush green emeralds darkened to citrine, topaz, and amber. There were no trees, but shards of diamond laid in with the golden jewels and stones made the landscape shimmer. "This is the pass through the Iron Mountains," Rockfall said, tracing the bottom edge of the map where the river disappeared between two pieces of polished amber so dark they were almost black. "Red Spool," he said naming the weaver that had traveled to the mountains, "says it's the only way to pass through them, you have to find the river."

Now that he was actually looking at the picture instead of staring in awe he found other familiar landmarks. Namurr's Head rock wasn't far from where they were. "It's a map," he said softly. "Had they not been killed, they would have reached Namurr's Head in two or three orns. He traced a path from Namurr's Head and found the Brittle Cliffs that marked the edge of where he'd traveled. Past the Brittle Cliffs the ambers, topazes, and citrines were replaced with glittering diamond mountains all the way up to the top right corner where another set of suns were shown in reds and golds of evening. "There are mountains that way?" he said softly.

"You have to go north, past the sea cliffs," Rockfall answered in a soft voice. Ratchet couldn't imagine how long the journey would take to reach the sea, but if the group had made it to the Brittle Cliffs they may well have been able to follow them all the way to the sea and mountains beyond.

"So we can guess where they were going," Charging Wind said stroking the desert stones. "But where did they come from? Have you ever seen that much green in your life? And the river, it's wider than the tree trunks." Ratchet picked out a few other landmarks, Scorpion's Tail and the Red Valley were done with detail in stunning shades of precious stones.

"The world is a big place, young warriors," Rockfall said. "Only ancestors above know what strange things are hiding on the other side of hills."

"They came all this way and were killed before they reached the sea," Whistler said sadly. "And there's no way for us to tell their clan what happened. They'll never know." He looked at the mechling curled in Ratchet's cloak and heavy silence fell over the group. Ratchet stroked his fingers over the mechling's cheek. Somewhere, a creator or sire or both would spend their lives wondering if their little one had died afraid. He looked up to the stars again and sent a sparkfelt prayer to his ancestors that they would find a way to ease that pain. The mechling was safe with him. Would always be safe for him. And maybe one orn, when he was old enough, they might follow the map and try to find where the mechling had come from.

After a few breems Charging Wind nudged Ratchet. "Well, what other breathtaking things do you have stashed in there?" She nodded at the pack and Ratchet rolled his optics but reached in to make sure nothing was left. His fingers found another rolled hide and slowly drew it out. It was a normal soft brown color and when Ratchet unrolled it the rest were disappointed to see regular ink. But Ratchet was intrigued by the detailed drawing of the mech. Lines where energon flowed were done in blue and outlined in red were primary and secondary intakes and where they reached inside the body. Different shades of green marked the complicated mess of systems in the abdere. He identified several of them but there were a couple he didn't think he had seen before. The spark was a bright drop of white in the center of the chest. More of the graceful black loops and curls and dots adorned the page with arrows pointing to the different systems.

"This is wonderfully detailed," Ratchet murmured mostly to himself since Whistler and Charging Wind were back to digging through the packs trying to find something remarkable. Rockfall stayed next to him though and looked over the diagram with him. Ratchet tapped a few systems in the chest done in purple that he also didn't recognize.

"Leaping Sand will be beside herself when she sees it," Rockfall said. "I didn't know we looked like that on the inside." There was wonder and curiosity in his voice and Ratchet had to agree. He knew what the systems were, but when he saw them they were covered in energon and other fluids with ragged tears or gaping holes in them as warriors struggled to live.

"This makes it look so…tidy, so neat." Ratchet looked down at the mechling snug against his side and wondered how many of the systems he could name already. At his size Ratchet had known most of the big ones, but the small ones he saw drawn with such crisp detail he wouldn't have known at all. "If this is what he's been studying…Ancestors, he'll be a better healer than me by the time he gets his first colors."

Rockfall laughed and stood up clapping him on the shoulder. "Leaping Sand said something very similar to that when you picked up your first colors." Ratchet looked up startled. As far as he knew no one in the tribe had known he would be such a gifted healer until he'd been half grown. Rockfall gave him a knowing smile, but didn't elaborate. Looking at the other two dejectedly pawing through stores of food and water skins Rockfall said, "I'll take first watch." Ratchet rolled up the drawing and refolded the elaborate map before tucking them both back in the pack and adding the other items he'd taken out. He had to get some recharge now because if he didn't he'd be awake all the night staring at that map and the incredible diagram.

Ratchet was the last one on watch, which surprised him. At the start of the journey he'd always been after Rockfall, but it had been Charging Wind that woke him. The mechling clung close to him not willing to let go of his warm place. Squeaking a little when he woke he only dug in tighter when Ratchet tried to pull him off to hand to Charging Wind. Still trying to wake up he gave up arguing with the stubborn mechling and stretched as best he could to wake up.

The darkest part of night had passed and now the earliest rising insects were beginning to wake up as well. The desert was alive with small peeps, chrips, buzzes, and crickets making it easier to wake up. The suns would be awake in a couple joors and the chill that made his breath frost in front of him would be banished once more. The mechling made a soft sound and Ratchet felt his cloak being tugged more around the mechling. Keeping a hand on the hilt of his dagger out of habit, Ratchet paced back and forth to warm himself up.

Like a dream he remembered pulling out the jewels the night before and the incredible map and diagram. The clan would be in uproar once they saw them. As he'd been the one to unpack the packs it would fall to him to decide what to do with everything. The jewels their clan could barter with. They could buy two seasons of supplies with just one of the necklaces. He looked down at the young mech cuddled against his side and then up at the stars.

He couldn't ask the mechling what he thought of the jewels, if they were important to him or if they were just trinkets. The mechling had little enough in the way of remembering his clan as it was, Ratchet didn't want to inadvertently use what was left to barter. But it was already Lean Season and. Even the burrow rats turned on each other to survive once the suns really set in to baking the land. Looking down he glanced at the sledge piled with tanned hides and the other pretty but empty packs. They could do good trading with those as well. He was glad they had a few orns before they would catch up to their clan. His thoughts were a tangled mess and talking to the other three would help unravel them.

In the distance, an alklab called to his family. The low mournful sound carried across the sand even though the singer remained hidden in the night. Ratchet paid little attention to it still wrapped up in his thoughts about the jewels. The mechling though heard it and jolted awake so hard Ratchet almost dropped him.

Pulling him back up on his hip Ratchet said softly and a little breathlessly, "What little one? What is it?" The alklab called again and his family answered with their yipping howls. The mechling shook hard against his side, tiny fingers digging hard enough into his exoform Ratchet thought he might draw energon. "Mechling, they're just alkilab, they won't come this close. Not with the fire and four big mechs here, they'll chase burrow rats for their breakfast," he soothed. The mechling looked up at him with wide terrified optics. And Ratchet had to admit if he'd spent a septorn or more alone in an unfamiliar place when he was the mechling's size he would be frightened of the alkilab's noise too. He wondered if the mechling had, had to fend them off. Alkilab were excellent hunters and scavengers. Some clans closer to the Iron Mountains had some tamed enough they used them to hunt. Even with the food buried in packs the alkilab may have been drawn to the smell of decay from the dead warriors. "I won't let anything hurt you," Ratchet murmured holding the mechling close to his spark. "You're safe now."

The alkilab continued to sing a few breems more and only when they were quiet and off on their hunt did the mechling relax his fingers. Curling closer to Ratchet's chest he didn't recharge again even when the night stayed quiet and peaceful. Tired turquoise optics roamed over the dark landscape and nothing Ratchet said or did could appease him.

By the time the suns rose he and the mechling both were ready to move. The mechling's tension finally eased as the first dim rays of light pushed the darkness back. But he didn't let Ratchet put him down until the ground was easy to see and all but the brightest of stars were gone.

Once on the ground the mechling dug through the packs and pulled out a few pieces of fruit and dried meat before curling up on the hides to eat them. He glanced at the sky every few breems as if waiting for something to swoop down and snatch him up. But by the time Whistler, Rockfall, and Charging Wind rolled over and got up his fear was gone and he just looked tired again. Charging Wind looked the mechling over as she picked out her breakfast from another pack. "You look like you haven't recharged at all," she told him.

"Alkilab scared him awake not long after I got up," Ratchet said. "He didn't go back into recharge. Given how scared he was, I think he had to fight one off." Waving the mechling off the sledge so he could retie everything he watched the mechling scramble down.

"If he did, he's earned his first colors as a warrior by my count," Rockfall said. "Those things wouldn't be scared off by him unless he put up a nasty fight." Yawning once he scrubbed his face with his hands and stretched his shoulders. "Set?" he asked Whistler. Never one for early mornings, Whistler still looked half in recharge but he nodded and started trudging up the dune. Ratchet thought the mechling would climb back on the sledge but instead he ran over and grabbed Ratchet's cloak again. Ratchet reached down and rubbed the back of his head through his cloak.

"Let's go mechling, we'll be home soon enough and not one alklab will think to come near you," Charging Wind said picking up one of the leads. Ratchet gestured for the mechling to stay close as he and Charging Wind started a slow walk up the dune. Whistler was halfway to the top and Rockfall was quickly outpacing them. They would go to the top and make their way to the bottom where they would wait. Once Charging Wind and Ratchet were at the top they'd secure the leads and push the sledge down. It was the only advantage the dunes had over flat land. The going was hard dragging the sledge up, but everyone got a break every few breems while it slid down. Then the two at the bottom would drag it up the next dune and the process would repeat until they reached the merciless flatlands.

At first the mechling didn't like the dunes because the constant trade off Ratchet had with the sledge meant he couldn't drowse in his arms. But after sulkily watching the sledge slide down one high dune his irritation was slowly replaced with thoughtfulness.

"He'll want to ride it down in a dune or two," Charging Wind said with a smirk. Ratchet walked and slid down the dune as Whistler and Rockfall at the bottom began dragging the sledge up the next hill. Sledge riding was the best game they had played when they were younger and the clan was on the move. If he could get away with it now Ratchet would still hop on a sledge and race down a dune. He thought it was the closest any of them would get to flying.

The next time the mechling watched the sledge careen down the hill he watched it with more analysis as if he was figuring out how bumpy the ride would be and if he could hold on. "You want to ride, mechling?" Ratchet asked nodding at the sledge as it slid to a halt at the bottom. The mechling looked up at him and then down at the sledge with bright hopeful optics. "Go catch them. They'll show you how to do it." Ratchet gestured at Rockfall and Whistler and even though the mechling didn't understand the words he picked up on what Ratchet was saying. He took off down the dune as fast as he could without tumbling end over end. Ratchet chuckled and followed him down glancing up at the suns rising ever higher in the sky.

The mechling gave up walking down the hill and instead sat down and scooted on his rear until he reached the bottom in a cascade of sand. Rockfall and Whistler were already halfway up the next dune and the little mech took off after them scrambling up the next rise on all fours. "He'll be in recharge before the suns set," Charging Wind said knowingly.

From many seasons of doing the same thing Ratchet saw the moment near the end of the orn that the mechling's orn of fun and rechargeless night finally caught up to him. Scooping him up so he didn't have to walk up the next dune, Ratchet grabbed the lead to the sledge and started a slow walk. Condensation slicked his frame from the orn of hard work under the suns but the constant breeze kept him out of danger of overheating. The mechling's head dropped forward onto his shoulder and his little frame was limp with recharge in breems. Charging Wind huffed a laugh when she saw him. Ratchet dug his feet into the hot sand and bullied his way forward doing his best not to jostle the little one as he climbed. The mechling was sound in recharge though and Ratchet didn't think anything short of dropping him would wake him.

They made it over two more dunes before the suns were low on the horizon and they started searching for a good place to camp. Whistler took the lead from him and he hoisted the mechling higher on his hip and walked ahead with Rockfall. The mechling didn't stir a bit, his breathing slow and even against Ratchet's neck. Rockfall looked the little mech over with gentle laughter. "We'll see if it's as much fun in the morning when his gears are stiff."

"He's young," Ratchet said already feeling how stiff he was going to be when the suns rose. "They don't have that problem." Rockfall grimaced but laughed again. For lack of any small boulders or trees they set up camp once the sky was painted crimson and navy. Ratchet sat with an exhausted huff and gently set the mechling down on one of the blankets taken from his camp, the soft one Charging Wind was still trying to barter from him. With a soft sigh the mechling snuggled deeper into the soft material and Ratchet thought he was resting easier than he had in his arms.

"I'm glad he got to have some fun this orn," Charging Wind said softly watching the small mech recharge. "He needed some laughter." Ratchet nodded and stroked the mech's arm. They didn't speak the same language, but Ratchet thought they might have stumbled onto a way to help the mechling lay his burden down. He hoped it was enough and he hoped the alkilab were quiet for the night so the mechling could dream something good. Glancing at the sledge where the packs were stacked and tied down he saw the blue strap of the one carrying the incredible jeweled map.

 **oOo**

They reached the end of the dunes just past mid-orn two orns later. The sledge came to a bumpy stop on hard flat cracked ground getting tangled on thorny plants as it ground to a halt. The mechling sat up and looked back up at them at the top of the dune and then forward. Stretching ahead of them all the way to the distant canyons that marked the last leg of their journey was rock strewn ground speckled with clumps of thorny plants. Some spikey leaves grew taller than the mechling but were so narrow they didn't offer any relief from the sun. Closer to nightfall some of them would reveal vibrant orange, pink, purple, and red blooms that were now hidden from the sun. Still in the hottest point of the orn, the land looked deserted. Wind blew dust and sand into small whirlwinds but no creatures skittered or slithered across the blistered ground.

Ratchet's heavy foot and a liberal slide of sand came down on the dehydrated dirt and a small puff of dust rose up. The dunes were grueling, but easy in their own way. There would be no break from pulling the heavy sledge now. There were no sharp inclines, only narrow ditches dug by water runoff in the Hunting Season that could snag the sledge or lead to twisted joints. Until they reached the distant canyons and ravines shade would only come when the suns set. He glanced at the mechling. The young mech was looking at the stretch of flatland with his tiny cephalic fins straight up as if he couldn't believe anything could be that big.

Untangling the lead from the thorny plants that had brought it to a stop, Ratchet and Charging Wind leaned all their weight against the sledge's and after a second of hesitation the sledge scraped forward. The mechling dropped back on the hides and looked around in unhidden wonder first behind him at the towering dunes they had conquered and now at this prickly, hot, and long hike they were now faced with.

The mechling stayed on the sledge only for a joor or so and then he was off and hesitantly exploring the different plants they passed. From a distance they all looked similar, but while they grew in clumps they were as varied as the functions within a clan. Some of the plants had thick juicy looking leaves that reflected the sun with a waxy sheen, others had woody branches that spread out over the clump but had tiny furled leaves that wouldn't open until the worst of the suns' heat was gone. Some had squat thick trunks that ended only a hand span from the ground and erupted into fans of jagged spikey fronds.

Ratchet kept an optic on him as he explored because while the landscape looked dead there were many animals who made their homes in the unforgiving flatlands and all had short tempers when the suns were high. He had warned the mechling away from a tumble of stones that made a promising lookout point for one so little but Ratchet had seen the telltale smooth swept dirt that marked the stones as home to a thueban. The mechling hadn't ventured close to any stone piles since and while Ratchet didn't want him to be frightened of anything, he was glad the mechling was keeping his distance. He was too distracted watching his feet and finding a good path for the sledge to educate the little one on the things to look for.

The mechling chirped a word in his own language and Ratchet glanced over long enough to say, "Suhulia Tail," and then repeated—or tried to repeat—what the mechling had said. It was this game that made the otherwise punishing hike more tolerable.

"Peyo-huk," the mechling chirped again. "Su-hu-li-a Tail," he said mimicking Ratchet as best he could. The rough syllables as unfamiliar in his mouth as his gentle flowing words were in Ratchet's. The mechling pointed to another spikey plant that looked similar to Suhulia tail. "Peyo-huk? Su-hu-li-a tail?"

"Not quite, mechling," Rockfall said. "Water Root," he said slowly. He pointed to the faint blue lines that ran down the middle of each fat spike. "Water root," he repeated. Reaching over to another plant he snapped off a piece of Suhulia tail and held up the darker green spike. Ratchet and Charging Wind didn't stop but they weren't moving terribly fast so it was easy to hear the impromptu lesson Rockfall gave. Side by side there were distinct differences between the two. Water root was fatter with more subtle colors; Suhulia tail was a solid dark green and narrow like a blade. The mechling made a soft cooing sound. A few seconds later he came trotting up next to Ratchet with a sample of each plant in his hand. Holding up the dark green one he said, "Su-hu-li-a tail." And then he held up the other. "Water…rut." His fins flicked up and down as he tried to remember the correct word.

Ratchet smiled. "Root," he supplied and the mechling nodded once. "Yes, very good. Suhulia tail and water root." He thought back to the other simple words they'd picked up and added, "Dui." They had come to the conclusion that meant some kind of affirmative and the mechling's bright smile supported that.

Despite the slow start, Ratchet and Charging Wind fell into a rhythm and pace they kept until sunset. Since they weren't moving as fast as they had with an unladen sledge they pushed through until the sky was more stars and moon than suns.

The mechling had given up on his game not long before the suns started their descent and now dozed on the sledge as the hot orn began to steadily cool. Rockfall and Whistler walked ahead of them looking for a good place to clear for recharging. No one wanted to accidentally bed down on a low growing thorny plant.

Using every moment of the suns' light to travel left them with only a few breems of red sky to start a fire that evening, but since there were no tents to set up it was just enough time for them to settle comfortably. They cleared out a space a short distance from a large boulder and put the sledge up against it so it wouldn't be readily seen in the dark.

The mechling was awake and again in Ratchet's lap as rations were passed around. He was still a little tired but attentive, gulping down the dried meat and water as if it was the choicest part of a fresh khinzir. He crooned in his soft flowing language trying to add to the conversation Whistler and Rockfall were having about the merits of a knife versus a long sword.

Charging Wind and Ratchet gave him ample attention so he wouldn't feel slighted when the other two warriors didn't take notice of him. Charging Wind asked him about his favorite things and even when they didn't understand a word of each other they were both laughing. Ratchet tried a more academic approach, trying to ask the mechling about what was in his small pouches. The mechling was just as enthusiastic opening each one and pouring a bit into Ratchet's hand so he could inspect it. Most of what he saw he'd never seen before. He sniffed each of them thinking they could be a unique mixture but the smell, while strong, was not one he knew. He recognized rust leaf, but it wasn't dried, it was fresh picked and Ratchet's spark twisted again when he thought of the warriors the mechling had tried to save.

While the mechling had spent a good part of the orn recharging, the warriors were tired from the hike and lay down not long after eating. Ratchet was on first watch and made sure the mechling was warmly wrapped in a blanket to keep the chill off. He couldn't be an effective guard if he was distracted by a mechling in his lap. Thankfully, he didn't have to try and explain that to the little one. Once he was bundled up the mechling snuggled deeper into his blankets until he was just a small lump by Ratchet's pack.

The moons hovered just above the far horizon slowly gaining purchase in the sky as the last of the stars emerged. At a glance, it looked like only four of the six moons were awake, but in the shadows between stars the two smallest moons Alffar and Alkalb were already dark. Scorpion was only a thin crescent while Thueban was still showing half a face. Namurr was just beginning to darken. It wouldn't be long before they were all dark for two orns and then tiny Alffar would emerge from its long recharge and would again start to brighten the sky. During Lean Season they had been concerned about not being in camp when the Raider's Nights came. But they would be back at well before the two darkest nights as all the moons turned their faces away. Those two nights where no moons lit the sky were ideal for covert attacks since every clan with a watch had to have fires blazing to see the threats that lurked in the night. It made them easy targets to see and no clan was immune to simple carelessness or laxness. Sometimes warriors were not as attentive as they should be and if an attack was started it would take every warrior in the clan to drive back the invaders.

It had been on a Raider's Night two seasons ago that Bright Star had fallen. The rest of the warriors had managed to drive off the attackers, but they had lost Bright Star and four other seasoned warriors and two young ones. Charging Wind was only now beginning to walk properly, her leg having taken a hard swing from an axe. Whistler's wounds were scarred on his shoulders and arms while Ratchet had thought Rockfall might lose an optic. He said it did not see as it once had, but it still worked. The cost had been high, but they'd kept what few stores they had and now they were returning with goods to trade and a few more things to add to their food stores.

Movement in the darkness caught Ratchet's attention. He moved only his optics seeking out whatever odd thing had caught his attention. The mechling was quiet and the others were not prone to tossing and turning in their recharge so it was something outside of their fire. The movement came again, close to the ground, but not from something short. He recognized the liquid grace of a hunting namurr. Turning his head to get a better look at the creature he was unconcerned. Namurr were terribly fierce when cornered, but they were not stupid. Once Ratchet revealed there was no easy meal to be had even from their packs it would move on. For now he watched it. Sometimes the young ones were simply curious.

He found the dark form and frowned as his optics focused on it. If it was indeed a namurr it was not a color he had ever seen on one. Namurr were colors of sand and sun baked stone with faint black lines running down their coat that made them look like nothing more than an eddy of sand when they ran across the desert. This one had a coat dark as the night and glittering red optics narrowed into small slits. It continued prowling, inching closer with every step. Ratchet lifted his fins halfway in warning. The way the namurr was moving was not one of curiosity, but of one searching for a good pounce. The namurr was bold and didn't even pause though Ratchet knew its sharp optics had to see his threat. Hissing low in his throat made the slinking animal pause mid-step and its ruby red optics swung to Ratchet. For a disorienting second, Ratchet was certain the namurr was threatening him with words he couldn't quite understand.

Unnerved, he stood and unsheathed one of his fighting knives. He wouldn't chase after the creature in the darkness, but if it drew into the ring of light he would end this strange creature. His plates prickled as he and the creature stared at each other. Whatever he was looking at, it was not a namurr. Red optics looked him over and Ratchet had the feeling he was being looked over by a challenging warrior, not an animal hunting for an easy meal. Fanning his fins completely he hissed and stepped to the edge of the firelight. The not-namurr barred its gleaming white fangs and laid its audial fins back. In a smooth practiced motion, Ratchet drew one of his throwing knives with his other hand and with a quick wrist flick the thin blade spun through the air and embedded itself in the ground where the not-namurr had been crouched a second before. With an angry hiss the not-namurr bounded into the night. Ratchet watched it as long as he could, but the creature's coat was so dark it was gone against the backdrop of stars in only a few strides.

A few joors later Ratchet nudged Charging Wind awake. He had spent the joors pacing around the camp just inside the ring of light. The night had an odd stillness about it as if the small creatures knew something was still lurking in the dark. But whether it was the not-namurr or a more benign creature Ratchet didn't know. "There is a creature prowling," he told Charging Wind as she stretched her shoulders. She cast sharp optics into the night and nodded in understanding. Charging Wind could bring down two warriors in two strikes so Ratchet rolled onto his bedroll not worried about something pouncing on him, but still turning over the unnatural encounter.

He checked the mechling before he fully sank into recharge and was relieved to see the mechling dozing. Putting his back to the fire Ratchet stared out into the night until recharge pulled him under.

Morning came—he thought—too early. The embers were stirred and coaxed to life with a few twigs. The fire was just big enough to warm up the dried meat a bit to make it a bit tenderer and as a warm balm against the chilled morning. While the mechling was yawning and snacking on his portion Ratchet went to retrieve the knife he'd thrown at the not-namurr.

The wind hadn't been strong, but when Ratchet found the knife he didn't see any prints. Frowning he walked in a wide circle around the area but didn't see anything. He knew he had almost hit the creature. Even if his depth perception was a bit skewed by the darkness, it wasn't the first time he'd thrown a knife at something in the dark. He should've been within a pace or two of hitting it even if it had been a terrible throw.

Slowly walking back to camp he tried to remember if a gale had come through after he'd gone into recharge. He'd been thoroughly tired and his recharge had been deep, black, and dreamless. At the edge, only a few paces beyond the fire pit, he saw his own footprints in the dust. Namurr were small but heavy, the big ones weighed more than a warrior. If Ratchet's prints were still clear in the dirt, the not-namurr's should have been there.

"Lose a knife?" Rockfall asked, shaking him from his thoughts. He looked up and found all three warriors and mechling looking at him with recharge heavy curiosity.

Ratchet shook his head and sheathed the knife he'd thrown. "Have you ever heard of a black namurr?" he asked Rockfall. The warrior was older than Bright Star had been, and Bright Star had been old enough to be Ratchet's sire. He was one of the oldest warriors in the clan and his experience was as vast as the sky.

With only a quick glance at each other they began to repack their bags and kicked dirt and sand over the fire while the old warrior thought. The mechling, looking much more energetic than he had the morning before, picked up his small staff and looked up at Ratchet expectantly when everything was packed. He had his hood pulled back and the small scarred etchings along his helm were bright in the morning light. Gently rubbing his head Ratchet smiled and took one lead on the sledge while Charging Wind took the other.

They were only a few paces from the fire when Rockfall finally answered. "I think I heard a story once about a black namurr," he said slowly. None interrupted him when he fell silent again. Rockfall was old with memories stretching twice the younger warriors' lifetimes. If he'd only heard the story once or in passing, it would take some thought to chase down the threads. "A merchant came…from way out by the Iron Mountains. He had a story he scared us all silly with. There was a black namurr in that, but I can't remember the tale," he said with a sigh and laughed ruefully. "I was hardly bigger than the mechling when I heard it. I'm surprised I remember even that much. Why did you ask?"

"I saw one last night," Ratchet said. "It…didn't seem right. Maybe it was sick? I threw the knife to scare it off." Ratchet had seen sick namurrs before and none of them had ever acted as the one last night. Even the ones with suns madness that drooled and attacked anything that moved had not unnerved him as the one during the night. That creature hadn't seemed glitched or starving or wounded, there had been a presence about it that didn't fit with its form.

Charging Wind frowned. "You said an animal was prowling. I didn't see anything, but I felt that there was still something in the night just out of sight." They huffed as they dragged the sledge over a runoff trench. Whistler took lead to scout an easier path as the clumps of plants and rocks became more prevalent. This early in the morning the landscape was alive with suhulias and scorpions darting out of the way of the heavy warriors and sledge. A few thueban also slithered away. The mechling watched one big one strike a suhulia that ran too close and scrambled onto the sledge a second later. Ratchet bit back a laugh. He wondered what creatures the mechling had known in his homeland.

"We'll ask Rockfall and Whistler if they noticed anything strange while on watch," she said as they made a sharp left to avoid low growing thorny plants growing over jagged pieces of rock. As it was, Whistler was a dozen paces or more ahead and Rockfall was ranging far to their left, likely searching for something they could use as dinner. Dried meat was all right, but there was nothing better than fresh meat on a spit.

"That thing I saw last night," Ratchet said watching Whistler made a sudden swerve to the right, "it didn't feel…natural. There was something about it. When it looked at me I felt like I was facing another warrior, not an animal." The warrior ahead gestured for them to make a wide right. They passed the place that had made Whistler move so abruptly a few seconds later A shallow sinkhole well hidden by healthy plants broke the ground.

"That is the talk of scary stories," Charging Wind said like she was reminding him of something, not passing judgement. Whistler twirled his knife as he walked and paused for an extra second before walking again. The quick jagged movement of a thueban darting away from them accounted for the odd stop.

"I know, but that doesn't change how I felt," Ratchet said. After a breem of silence as they navigated the tricky terrain he added, "This thing was as dark as night and had red optics. I've heard of namurrs with darker stripes, but never one solid black and never one with red optics. I've never heard of even a mech having red optics. And it left no prints. That's what I was looking for this morning."

The topic dropped as the more pressing need to negotiate a wide water runoff came up. "Hop off, little one," Whistler said. The mechling saw the gap and slid off, after checking the ground for anything moving. Rockfall was called back over to help stabilize and push with Whistler while Charging Wing and Ratchet continued to pull. Carefully they jumped to the other side of the trench and pulled the sledge diagonal heaving to keep the nose from dipping. Once the front of the runners were on the other side they started pulling slowly while Whistler and Rockfall pushed and prepared to catch the back end once it slipped off the edge. The ties were tight and the trench not that narrow so it only took a few moments to get everything sorted out.

Once the sledge was fully on the other side Charging Wind said, "You didn't search very far; even you can make a bad throw." Whistler and Rockfall looked between them with interest while they caught their breath and dusted off their hands.

Ratchet flicked his fins once to tell her that particular comment was ridiculous. He was not infallible, but he had never missed a throw that badly. "I threw the knife directly at it. It was quick enough to get away before it was struck but there should have been claw marks or some sort of scuff in the dirt. There was nothing. It was like it never existed."

"What?" Whistler asked. Ratchet and Charging Wind continued walking and Whistler took point again but not so far ahead he couldn't keep up with the conversation. Rockfall also stayed close and kept an optic on the mechling when he didn't immediately climb back on the sledge.

Charging Wind finished her thought before including the other two. "I can't dismiss it as a dream because I know what I felt while I was on watch. It did feel like I was being watched by something hunting. I don't know if I would say it felt like another _warrior_ watching me, but there was something."

Ratchet said, "The black namurr didn't leave prints. If the wind wasn't strong enough to wipe mine away, it wouldn't have been strong enough to completely erase that thing's."

"Thing?" Rockfall said with raised optic ridges. Whistler looked over his shoulder with a similar expression.

Sighing Ratchet said, "I don't know what I saw last night, but I know it wasn't a true namurr. Not only was it all black, but it had red optics. And we've not heard any namurr since we left the clan. If we were in one's territory it would have let us know. This thing approached the camp fearless and already hunting. Not even my standing caused it concern. I was trying to kill it when I threw the knife, not just frighten it off, because whatever it was, it was not what it appeared to be."

Rockfall and Whistler were both quiet as they walked and thought. Ratchet looked out at the horizon. The suns' bright rays began to spread across the ground making the sand and dirt glitter and shine like the map had done in the firelight. Rubbing his optics Ratchet looked at the mechling who was watching the adults with some confusion but not fear. He was far more concerned with watching his feet and avoiding anything that slithered. Ratchet smiled a little. At least he was cautious and not a careless rambunctious little one like Whistler had been. But then again, Ratchet had always been cautious as well. As a healer's apprentice he had seen the worst that could happen with careless steps and not enough respect given to thueban and namurr.

 **oOo**

By the time they made camp at the end of sunset none of them had any answers to the strangeness of the night before except to change who took watch first and maybe they would see the creature again. Ratchet was hoping the beast wouldn't appear, then at least they might be able to put the incident behind them.

The mechling, wrapped in his blanket since Ratchet was on second watch, wriggled so he was close to Ratchet's spark and dropped into recharge without any fuss. He had recharged on the sledge for some of the orn, but it was so hot under the unrelenting suns he hadn't recharged long or well. He had eaten his dinner with drooping optics and Ratchet hadn't been surprised at all when he lay down and the mechling snuggled right up to him.

He woke up with only a small touch from Charging Wind, on the wind, alkilab howled to the moons. He didn't remember when they started but he'd probably been hovering on the edge of waking ever since. The mechling was still and quiet and Ratchet thought he was still in recharge until he started to get up. The mechling whimpered and when Ratchet lifted the edge of the blanket he found two frightened turquoise optics looking back at him. "They're far off, mechling. They won't hurt you," he murmured.

"Here little one, you can recharge with me," Charging Wind said softly. She picked up the small bundle and headed to her bedroll. The mechling didn't make another sound or wiggle around when he was set down. Ratchet wanted to believe the mechling was comforted, but he'd held him that first night when the alkilab sang and he knew the mechling would be rigid with fear until morning.

Rolling to a sitting position, Ratchet stood when recharge continued to cling to him. Pacing a slow circle around the perimeter of firelight he stared out into the night. The alkilab continued to sing but they were a quiet background noise compared to the small sounds of insects around them now. The itching feeling of being watched wasn't there, but Ratchet continued to walk a circle around the tiny camp until it was time to wake Whistler.

By morning the warriors were awake but the mechling was yet again exhausted. "You were right, Ratchet, he didn't recharge even a breem last night. The alkilab stopped while you were awake, didn't they?" Charging Wind asked.

Ratchet nodded and set the mechling in his lap. "It wasn't even close this time. Moons only know what he went through in that camp. We'll have to find some way to let him know the alkilab won't approach us no matter how hungry they are.

"He'll feel better once he's back home and has tent walls around him," Rockfall said in a knowing tone. "Alkilab are scary because we're a small group, but you get a big fire and a dozen warriors sitting and talking and he'll figure out there's nothing to fear. Ratchet stroked the top of the exhausted mechling's head and hoped Rockfall was right.

 **oOo**

Two more cold nights passed without a repeat of the not-namurr appearing and Ratchet's apprehension about the whole thing began to drift away. It had been a rather dark night with the moons slowly turning their faces away and the fire hadn't been very bright. Namurr were meant to blend in to the landscape his imagination full of corpses rusting in the sun had latched onto a normal creature and twisted it to something unnatural.

The mechling was not as easily appeased. He still woke every time the alkilab began their song and trembled in fear until the light came. They were all slowly learning more of his words and him theirs, but Ratchet didn't have enough to reassure him the alkilab wouldn't come near them. Despite his fear during the night the mechling was bright and inquisitive while the suns were up, at least until exhaustion pulled him onto the sledge where he napped fitfully. There was nowhere cool for him to lie, the hot ground reflected back the suns' heat and light twofold and even the grown warriors had to alternate with the sledge every few joors or they would pass out from the heat.

It was as the canyons loomed ahead of them with the promise of shade during the orns that Ratchet's tentative sense of peace was shattered. He took first watch as velvet darkness settled over the land. Jagged spires of rock and yawning mouths of gorges rose up ahead of them. They would be at the nearest mouth by the next nightfall. A few more orns and they would finally be home. The mechling snuggled down in his blanket and dropped into recharge as the faintest stars began to come out. Insects courted and night avians were silent silhouettes against the moon as they searched for their first meal. The alkilab were thankfully quiet for the moment. Ratchet wasn't an expert on young mechs but he knew they needed more than just a few fitful joors of recharge a night.

The insects and birds and other unseen predators and prey kept him good company while he watched the night pass. But as he stood to wake Rockfall a small shiver went up his spinal relay. Cocking his head and listening to the familiar night sounds he heard nothing amiss; no sudden dip in the insects' songs or the cry of startled animals. He walked a slow circle around the camp staring out into the night searching for whatever was giving him the odd prickle.

He circled twice more before he rubbed his face and went to wake Rockfall. The old warrior stood up and stretched and didn't move as if he was feeling something strange nor did he make any mention of strange feelings. Shaking himself out of his thoughts Ratchet checked the mechling to make sure he was recharging soundly and then moved his pack a little further from the still warm coals. There wasn't much left for the mechling, he didn't want his pretty bag to suddenly catch fire. Dropping to his bedroll Ratchet gave in to recharge.

A sharp yell and horrendous shriek pulled him straight from dreams to waking in the time it took to draw a breath. Knife in hand he jumped into a crouch, optics sweeping the dark desert in front of him. To his left Charging Wind hissed a challenge, her stave making a high whistle as it cut through the air. Back and to his right he heard Rockfall moving but he didn't hear weapons cross. Pressed back as close to the smoldering coals as he could get the mechling stared wide opticked out into the night with his tiny pack clutched against his chest.

Light began to catch in front of Ratchet as the smoldering end of a brand tried to catch on the plants outside of their camp circle. Cautiously leaving his crouch Ratchet walked to the small clump and picked up the brand by the cooler end and kicked dirt over where it had lain. "Did you fall in the fire?" he asked, tossing the stick back into the fire pit. Whistler wasn't holding his hands or feet like they had been burned but he was gripping his short swords so hard his fingers creaked.

"I fragging well _saw_ it," he said breathlessly, optics roaming over the dark and silent landscape. "That cursed black namurr, it was right _there_." Ratchet froze halfway through putting his knives away. Charging Wind too went still next to him. The cool desert breeze didn't bring any sound.

Rockfall paced a full circle around the camp, optics sharp and head slightly tilted as he listened for any small wayward sound. "Start from the beginning, warrior," he said moving from mentor to leader in a breath.

Whistler shook his arms a couple times and sheathed one sword but kept the other in his hand as he paced back and forth optics never still. "It felt a bit strange," he started. "Not long after I woke up everything started to get a little quiet. It didn't suddenly cut off, but I had a feeling something was prowling so I walked around a bit in case it was a pack of alkilab." While he spoke Ratchet crouched down next to the mechling and stroked the top of his head. His small body stayed rigid and his arms locked tight around his pack but his optics flicked up to Ratchet. Terror made his usually turquoise optics closer to emerald.

"I was right here when everything just went quiet," Whistler said. "It was the most unnatural thing, I thought for a second I was wrong about the alkilab and a sandstorm was coming in but when I turned around to wake the rest of you I _saw_ it. It was right there were Ratchet is now." Ratchet lifted his head and then looked down at the cracked earth under him. Not even they left prints on the hard ground here, there would be no trace of the namurr unless it crushed some plants as it fled. "It had a paw stretched toward the fire, like it was trying to grab the mechling's pack." Whistler shook his head and finally stopped pacing but didn't stop swiveling his head back and forth. "I was so surprised, I hardly knew what I was doing. I just grabbed a brand and threw it. I wanted to startle it far enough away from the mechling Ratchet or Charging Wind would have a shot of stabbing it when they woke but it just…it just…it _disappeared!_ As soon as the brand hit, it made that awful shriek and then it was just gone, like it had never been there." He started pacing again.

The camp was quiet after he finished. Ratchet divided his attention between watching Whistler and the mechling. The mechling unfroze enough he scrambled into Ratchet's arms, never letting go of his pack. Ratchet rumbled low in his chest in an attempt to soothe him further but he had a feeling on the suns' orange glow on the horizon would make the mechling feel better. "That is madness," Rockfall said after the silence stretched too long, he kept a weapon in his hand though. Whistler was well known for his love of grand stories, but he had never made up one when things mattered.

"What did it look like?" Ratchet asked. The mechling pressed close to his spark, small shivers racing through him every few seconds. Bending down he picked up a blanket and wrapped the small mech in that.

"Solid black as you said, red optics. It was trying very hard to avoid the light from the fire, that's why it was all stretched out. Its body stayed in the shadows, it was just the paw that I got a good look at." Whistler shook himself all over once more and sheathed his sword. Around them the night sounds began to return. There was no taint of malice in the air as Ratchet had felt after he threw the knife.

Charging Wind twirled her stave a few times while she thought. "It was a strange night as you said," she said nodding slowly. "It wasn't quite what I felt when Ratchet saw the beast, but it was close. I thought some alkilab were out prowling too while I was awake."

"Well that's two of us now that have seen it and all of us have heard it," Rockfall said. "We keep a sharp optic out at night but between Ratchet's knife and now a burn from Whistler it should have learned by now we're no easy prey. If we see it again closer to camp we'll tell the hunter-warriors and they can try their hand at tracking the beast." The three younger warriors nodded. All of them could track to some degree, but while Ratchet specialized in healing, the other three didn't have any specialized training. But as he stared at the ground where Whistler said the black namurr had been crouching he doubted even their sharp opticked hunter-warriors would find the black namurr. He could well remember the malice in the beast's optics as it watched him. When he looked up and caught Whistler's optic he saw the same doubt on his face.

 **oOo**

While their progress in the dunes had been slow, there had been noticeable progress each orn. In the canyons their progress was little more than a crawl. The smooth stones of the riverbed left by water long since dried made for unstable footing and sometimes rolled under the runners causing a fair bit of jostling. The mechling found the whole experience a delight, holding tight to the ties and laughing as he bounced back and forth. They kept to the smoother edges of what had been the banks but tumbled boulders from the cliffs or dense tangles of plants sent them just as often back to navigating the treacherous stones.

The saving grace was the deeper they moved down the dry river the higher the canyon walls became which left long shadows on them for most of the orn. Still, it was not easy moving the sledge. "As soon as we reach camp I'm recharging until the moons are bright again," Charging Wind said checking her footing before lunging forward with Ratchet while Rockfall and Whistler pushed the sledge from behind to get it past the rough rocks it was caught on.

The mechling bounced along next to him always looking up at the canyon walls like he'd never seen anything like them before. After half a joor of quiet conversation the mechling started singing a jaunty little tune as he skipped a few rocks ahead of Ratchet. His little voice was a bit off key but high and clear. The enthusiasm he put into the song made up for the wrong notes and soon Whistler was ahead trying to sing with him and tripping all over the unfamiliar words.

"You know those warriors probably taught him that song," Charging Wind said a little out of breath as they pulled the sledge over a batch of particularly rough rocks. "Probably some rude thing they sang around the campfire and here we're all going to learn it and teach it to everyone else." She and Rockfall both laughed and tried to sing the chorus with the mechling.

Ratchet found himself smiling as the mechling started another song and hopped along the rocks with his little staff held out for balance. "We'll have to teach him some of our rude songs then to even things out," he said.

"Whistler will do it without anyone asking," Charging Wind said with an optic roll in her voice. Ratchet snorted but was more focused on the loose rock under one of his feet while his balance was precarious. Once he righted himself and found better footing they continued forward with the mechling's bright little tunes echoing off the canyon walls. Charging Wind's mood brightened before the rough trek could really sour it and she tried to sing a few words, failing miserably. Rockfall and Whistler also tried to join on the chorus and managed a bit better. Ratchet had never been one for singing, but listening to the others try and the mechling's obvious delight in their efforts made him laugh.

"He's a darling little thing," Charging Wind said. "Better be careful when we get back home, someone might fight you for him." She laughed when he snorted. The clan would be surprised to see the mechling, but it was less likely to be a happy surprise. Bringing another mouth to feed to the clan during Lean Season was bad enough, but a growing little one was double the burden. It was something he'd tried to put from his mind while in the flatlands but they were very close to home and it was now a pressing matter.

The mechling had some training as a healer, so at least he had an immediate use. But an untrained healer was not much of a justification for bringing him back to camp. Ratchet was willing to forgo his rations to make sure the mechling was fed. And while he wasn't a hunter-warrior, he had been on his fair share of hunting trips with Bright Star. Even if they had to live on tough burrow rat meat until the Lean Season ended and the rains came they would survive.

"What am I going to say?" Ratchet asked as they moved to a clear stretch of bank to pull the sledge.

Charging Wind knew what he was talking about and shrugged. "Same thing you told us," she said a little breathless. The bank put them in a patch of sunlight but the going was smoother so it didn't push them to overheating. Ratchet glanced up and the small ribbon of blue the sky had been reduced to while they were in the heart of the canyon. Next to him the mechling was hopping from rock to rock occasionally catching himself with his staff when the rock he landed on proved unsteady. Whistler and Rockfall were ambling not far from him still in the shade.

"I don't know if that will be enough," he said. What he'd told them at the camp still held true. The mechling had survived a septorn or more alone after surviving some kind of attack and—while the actions had been futile—he'd tried to save his warriors. He deserved a chance to live. But, as Ratchet had been told many times over his life, he was already a gifted healer and Leaping Sand was getting old, but could still fight off three warriors. Bringing in a third healer to train was a bit excessive.

"Ratchet, you're thinking too hard," Charging Wind scolded. "You don't have to come with a Holy Writ to convince the clan to accept the mechling. He's adorable, smart, and has proven himself to be a survivor. It will be enough." Her tone softened, "No one is cold-sparked enough to send a little one back into the desert to die. They will love him just like we do." He thought over her words for a few breems and nodded. He did have a habit of thinking too much on the details, a curse of his healer training.

"It's hard not to worry," he said. The mechling seemed to have developed a jumping game as he zigzagged through the riverbed laughing each time he made a far leap. "We took our fifth colors only three seasons ago," Ratchet said. They were the youngest warriors the clan had. It would be another season before any others were old enough to take their fifth colors. Usually the ones bringing others back to camp were seasoned warriors and they brought back mates.

"It will be fine," Charging Wind said with her usual confidence. Ratchet sighed but tried to let himself be as confident as she was. "Besides, it will be quite obvious if they wish to reject him, you'll be going with him. They won't risk it," she added. That was true. Ratchet had taken him from the camp and he had sworn to be a guardian over the mechling. If the clan rejected the little one, Ratchet would not neglect his guardianship. They would go into the desert together.

Two orns later as the suns moved to the horizon swathing the canyons in dark grey shadows the group moved to the sandy bank that was packed down with footprints and hoof prints from the half dozen maeiz they kept. They followed the prints and Ratchet's spirits lifted considerably. Around a bend and the closest tents could be seen on a high shelf. It looked impossible to get to from where they currently were. Above, the sky turned periwinkle and the shadows darkened to black in the nooks and crannies of the canyons.

Whistler took his place at the front of the group and let out a short hailing cry that sounded like three sharp barks. The response came seconds later. Around the bend in front of them a young guard with only four colors stepped out and grinned at them.

The mechling made a soft cooing sound that Ratchet had begun to associate with the mechling feeling uneasy about something. Glancing back Ratchet said, "It's all right, we're home." The mechling sat on the pile of hides and looked from Ratchet to the guard ahead of them and then settled back with another quiet sound.

The guard waited until they were close before leading them around the bend. Nestled in the side of the wall was a narrow path the clan used to herd their small flock down for grazing on the plants growing in the shade. There was no way to fit the sledge on it so it would have to be unloaded and then disassembled and taken up in pieces. The path ran in a switchback almost to the top where a ledge stuck out over the riverbed.

Burying his doubts, Ratchet dropped the lead and turned around. The mechling watched the young guard that had greeted them with the same wary interest the guard watched him. Snorting once, Ratchet called the mechling to him and held out his arms. Sliding off the sledge the mechling came to him without hesitation and Ratchet settled him on his hip. "You're safe, mechling," he murmured. Rockfall undid the ties and started loading his arms with hides and packs. One of Ratchet's arms was already full but he used the other to snag the two packs with the map and jewels. Charging Wind scowled at him and grabbed the soft blanket.

Rolling his optics, Ratchet started up the narrow path. The mechling was quiet and subdued the higher they climbed, his jubilant personality hidden by apprehension. But he held tight to Ratchet's neck, his trust absolute that Ratchet would keep him safe. Ratchet couldn't imagine ever trusting an unknown mech as much as the mechling trusted him. He gave him a gentle squeeze and his resolve to keep the mechling safe melted away any misgivings he had. He had no idea what he had done to earn the level of trust the mechling had in him but he would not break that for anything.

They reached the top and the mechling hid his face partway in Ratchet's neck when they were greeted by a crowd. A whiplash of tension went through the gathered when they saw Ratchet was carrying more than a couple brightly colored packs. The older warriors gathered raised their optic ridges but Ratchet didn't answer the implied question. Unlike Whistler, he did not enjoy repeating the same story over and over again. He would tell the warriors before the sun was low because there would certainly be a meeting and if the others demanded to hear the story again he would let Whistler tell it around the fire.

Perceptive of the mood, the mechling pulled back even more when Ratchet walked forward but he didn't try to push away or run. He curled himself close to Ratchet's spark and tried to hide himself a bit more under Ratchet's cloak. The crowd gave Ratchet more space when they saw the mechling's fear and a few uttered a low rumbling sound to soothe him. It was the same sound Ratchet had used trying to calm the mechling's fear of the alkilab and he did relax a bit when he heard it. Still, surrounded by so many unknown mechs he remained tense.

"We didn't expect you back for another moon turn or more," one of the older warriors said. He was the same size as Ratchet and had two hatchets strapped to his waist where others kept daggers. Boulder's bright silver frame was covered fully in a sheath of dark brown fabric leaving only his arms and legs below the knees bare. He was one of the warriors in North Wind's close circle and like most of those warriors he didn't like Ratchet. He didn't know why and he had stopped wondering about it several seasons ago, but it still aggravated him that warriors who were old enough to be above petty politics still participated in them.

Ratchet didn't stop walking. "Good hunting," was all he said. His plan was to leave the mechling with Leaping Sand while he helped unload the sledge. His mentor would adore the small mech and she was the only one Ratchet thought the mechling would be comfortable with. Leaping Sand had always had a way with little ones.

 **oOo**

 **A/N:** Fun fact: This was all supposed to be part of Chapter 1 as well but I realized that section was already at 10K and split them. Get your snacks and pee breaks in now, next chapter is preeeeeetttttyyyyyyy long.

Thank you for R/R/F/F!


	3. Chapter 3

The two tents closest to the small path hunter-warriors recharged in since their senses were more attuned to the natural footfalls of curious animals or stalking mechs. On the front flaps, a saqr mid-dive with talons extended was painted in thick bold purple lines across the sandy brown. The mechling kept his head tucked against Ratchet's neck but Ratchet felt him turn to look at the tent a bit longer as they passed.

Passing between those led to a small open space where most of the weavers were still hard at work. On the left, between two smaller tents where the weavers recharged, a thick rope was strung up for finished projects to air out. A blanket that had only been half done when he left hung there now. He was always impressed with how fast the weavers worked and the way their fingers could move thread so quickly without tying knots around themselves. He had tried to do some weaving when he was small and bored. It had never ended well, but Red Spool had been patient and amused teacher while he untangled Ratchet's fingers.

Basket weavers sat with the fabric weavers laughing and gossiping. Water was too scarce for them to create pottery, but the hardy plants that thrived in the harsh climate were strong and sturdy enough to carry stones to the fire pits. The basket weavers' strong fingers twisted the fibers and wove them tight enough between each other they could also be used to carry water without spilling a drop. The weavers two tents as well as the tent the cooks and gatherers shared were in the center since they had no weapon training. Those with young ones were also close to the center, or, if their creators were both warriors, near the back as a rear guard. In a larger space they would be a bit more spread out and in more defined concentric circles, but here on the ledge the tents were pressed close in more of a jumbled maze.

Everyone looked up when he walked into the small common area, the same surprise he'd seen in the larger group flitting across their faces. Red Spool looked the most surprised as his optics moved slowly from mechling to Ratchet and then they turned to interest as he looked over the mechling's colorful garments. Ratchet smiled and kept walking and the weavers huffed as he passed. The mechling looked over his shoulder again and said something that sounded like a question. "Weavers?" Ratchet said softly. "Did your clan have weavers, too?" The mechling let out a gusty sigh and his head dropped back to Ratchet's shoulder. Ratchet sighed too and rested his head against the mechling's back for a moment. "I'm sorry mechling, I can only hope one of the traveling warriors has heard your glossa before," he murmured. He squeezed him a little tighter hoping he could allay whatever fears the mechling might have by touch alone.

On the other side of the common area was another sandy brown tent that looked like the others, except on the door flap was a saqr sitting calm and quiet on a tree limb. "Leaping Sand, I'm back," Ratchet called softly. Sometimes she was up half the night working on poultices and grinding herbs since she claimed it was the only time she ever had any peace. If she was still recharging, he would go back to the weavers and sit with Red Spool and see if he knew any words of the mechling's language.

But a few seconds later the flap was drawn back and Leaping Sand gave him a warm smile. Seven bands of colors decorated her arms and they were the only color on her. She kept her dress simple with a long piece of dark fabric that twined around her hips and wrapped around her chest like a constricting thueban. One of the oldest in the clan, her optics were clear and sharp and landed on the mechling half a second after she opened the flap. Raising her optic ridges she said, "And who is this?" she asked stepping out of the way so he could enter.

Inside was a bit cooler than the setting suns' light outside and he let out a relieved breath. After a few orns of constant sun he'd gotten used to it, but that didn't mean he no longer wanted shade. The mechling perked up a bit more being out of the sun as well and pushed his hood off his head. He looked all around, craning his neck back to look at the low ceiling rippling in the breeze. Strung on small ropes, bunches of herbs dried in the cool heat of the tent. The tent always had a pungent smell that was neither pleasant nor unpleasant; just strong. The herbs used in healing rarely produced a delicate smell unless it was for upset tanks or spark sickness when creators were carrying. "Meyoh," he said happily pointing up. Ratchet smiled and pressed his cheek against the mechling's head a second before the mechling was twisting around to see more of the tent.

There wasn't much in the tent. Ratchet's space was to the left, the two tapestries he loved were above his sleeping roll and seemed to take most of the mechling's attention. The larger of the two showed the suns sinking into the ocean. Bold reds and oranges spread out across the blue water. The smaller one was a dark night with the six moons high and full while a pack of alkilab ran under their light. Until seeing the jeweled map he'd thought his tapestries were brightly colored. Now that he'd seen the actual glitter of diamonds and sapphires and emeralds and rubies he knew he'd never call the colors of the tapestries jewel bright ever again.

To the right was Leaping Sand's space. Her decorations were in the form of small fired clay pots that held raw forms of the herbs she used. They were lined up neatly against the side of the tent. A dark piece of rolled cloth held her tools for deep wounds and that was tucked between two of the bigger pots to keep the fabric snug around the tools so they wouldn't get dirty. Small bowls turned upside down on top of the jars so they wouldn't get dirty were all Leaping Sand bothered to claim. If she'd ever had more than just those few things no one had ever known about it. She claimed healers needed to travel light so they could move quickly and get where they were needed. Ratchet had taken some of her lesson to spark, but the tapestries were proof he was not his aesthetic mentor, despite whatever rumors were currently running through the clan.

In the very back of the tent were a few plain blankets rolled neatly against the wall where they could be unrolled easily for sick and injured. The small bucket where Leaping Sand washed her hands and tools before and after treating the injured was also flipped upside down to keep out as much dust and sand as possible.

After he had thoroughly investigated the small space, the mechling squirmed to be put down. He made a straight line for the small jars and bowls on Leaping Sand's side. She smiled as she watched the mechling pick up and examine the bowls with deft little fingers. Ratchet thought he would be clumsy as most little ones were at his size, but his familiarity with handling the bowl surprised him. "He is a healer," Ratchet said, a little embarrassed by the level of fondness in his voice. Leaping Sand was certain to hear it, but she didn't give any response to it. "We found him at a camp destroyed by raiders," Ratchet's voice softened as sadness that had dogged him since leaving the camp returned to nip at his spark. "He tried very hard to save them," he added quietly as the mechling lifted the top of one jar and took a quick sniff of what was inside. He wrinkled his nasal ridge and put the lid back talking to himself in his pretty language.

Pain flashed deep in Leaping Sand's optics but she smiled warmly at the mechling and held out her hand out to him when he looked up. Ratchet watched with interest as the mechling didn't hesitate to come over to her. During the trip if he hadn't been by Ratchet's side he'd been on the sledge. But the mechling said something to Leaping Sand once she scooped him up and he could get a better look at the colors on her arms. She laughed softly. "A curious little one, aren't you? Good, it will make you a good healer," she told him. The mechling tilted his head back and forth and his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the words. Leaping Sand looked at Ratchet with seriousness in her optics. "Ratchet, I can only hope Rockfall reminded you of the responsibility he is."

Ratchet dipped his head formally, "Whistler and Rockfall both. There was no choice to be made, Leaping Sand. He survived a septorn or more without anyone with him. That is not a spirit anyone but the Suns has a right to cut down." The mechling looked between them, noticing the change in voice and Ratchet's posture.

"So smart," Leaping Sand said with a smile. "You will keep Ratchet very busy." She turned back to Ratchet with a long sigh. "I know your spark and your mind Ratchet and I know you will be a guardian to him until your spark returns to the stars, but North Wind will have the last say," she cautioned.

Ratchet blinked instead of spitting out the curse the name brought to his glossa. In their fortnight away from camp he had forgotten he now had to answer to North Wind, not Bright Star. The old clan leader had fallen only a season ago and his absence was a deep wound still healing. His offspring and successor, North Wind, was a good leader…but he wasn't Bright Star. And he'd shown an unwarranted amount of hostility towards Ratchet since taking the title. Even before he had become the formal leader Bright Star had been giving North Wind more and more responsibilities in regards to running the clan. Ratchet had become the one warrior in the clan reserved for menial tasks.

Growing up, the two had never been close even though Ratchet had spent every moment he wasn't with Leaping Sand with Bright Star. But since they'd received their fourth colors, North Wind's passive coldness had warmed to open antagonism. Ratchet hadn't understood the change until Whistler had—with bountiful exasperation—told him a great deal many in the clan thought Bright Star would choose him to be his successor instead of North Wind.

In their clan, the title of leader was not hereditary. Of course, the clan leader's offspring had a good chance at being named successor since they spent all their time with the current leader, but it wasn't uncommon for an unrelated mech or femme to be named successor. Ratchet had never considered being clan leader, didn't want it. He was already successor to the clan healer. It would be disastrous for everyone if the clan leader and clan healer were the same mech. But Whistler had argued that Leaping Sand could start training a new successor. That had stung Ratchet's pride quite a bit. He didn't understand how mechs and femmes could tell him he was one of the best healers the clan had, had in generations and then turn around and say he was replaceable.

But whatever Ratchet thought about the matter was irrelevant, because North Wind had decided to believe the rumors that Ratchet was the favored successor and had ever since been trying to prove himself. After Bright Star's death and North Wind was named formally as clan leader, Ratchet thought they would return to ignoring each other as they had when they were little. North Wind though, had done everything he subtly could to keep Ratchet out of sight and out of mind. Such as sending him off on a raiding party when everyone well knew they were far from the usual trade routes. That Ratchet had not only returned, but returned with goods instead of empty handed wasn't going to do him any favors with the new clan leader.

"Suns curse me," he hissed under his breath. He had to bite his sharp glossa whenever the topic of North Wind came up. Anything he said would either be seen as trying to gather support for a coup or bitterness for not being chosen. Silence was his only friend, and now he had dragged a mechling into a war Ratchet didn't start and didn't want to fight. "He wouldn't send a little one out to die just to spite me," Ratchet said softly. Because North Wind _was_ a good leader. To everyone else at least. He might make Ratchet turn over guardianship to someone else, but Ratchet would swallow his anger and live with that. So long as the little one would be taken care of, that was all that mattered.

Leaping Sand set the mechling down and crouched so she could push his hood a bit more off his face. "No, I don't think he would either, I just want you to be prepared for whatever he does," she said in a soft voice that wouldn't carry past the threshold. "You are adorable," she said with a quiet laugh. Her fingers lightly brushed over the glyphs on his head and her fins raised slightly with curiosity. "I'll fight for him Ratchet," she said looking up after a moment, a saqr's fierceness in her optics. A healer at spark, she was still a warrior first. "If he thinks to be a healer, no one else here has the knowledge to help him. Not even pettiness can argue with that logic," she said. "I know you won't tell anyone what happened until tonight, so you may as well go before I frustrate us both asking questions you won't answer."

"Can you watch him a moment," he asked gesturing to the packs on his shoulder. The sooner he dropped the bags off at North Wind's tent the sooner he could get away from the irritating mech. Glancing up at the pink streaked sky he was glad they'd arrived near sunset. After a long orn, North Wind wouldn't drag things out.

Leaping Sand tickled under the mechling's chin and smiled. "Of course. But North Wind isn't here," she added when Ratchet adjusted the strap of one pack. Ratchet tilted his head to the side in question. He couldn't think of anywhere North Wind would be this close to sunset. Raider's Night was still a ways out but that was no reason to be lax in anything. "He went out on a short hunting trip. They left two orns ago, we're expecting them back tomorrow or the next." Ratchet huffed. Much as North Wind wanted to be clan leader he did take every opportunity to go out with a hunting party. "To be fair," Leaping Sand continued, "most weren't expecting you back for another septorn or more."

"How far did you think we were going to go?" he asked with a raised optic ridge.

"Me? I knew you wouldn't drag that fool's errand out. I thought you would be back yesterorn." She held out her hand to the mechling and called him further into the tent. The mechling looked back at Ratchet and then up at Leaping Sand.

Ratchet smiled and nodded to Leaping Sand. "You'll be safe mechling. Show Leaping Sand what's in your pouches. She might know what I didn't." He didn't think the mechling understood anything of what he said, but the small mech still reached out and took Leaping Sand's hand. Ratchet's spark squeezed.

"Ah, there he is," Charging Wind said as she came up the path with the last of the packs on her back. "Just in time for everything to be done." Most of the crowd was gone, curiosity not satisfied but knowing the warriors would keep their peace until after dinner.

Thoughts still preoccupied with what North Wind might do with the little one, he managed to snort and say, "I didn't know you would need help with those empty packs." Hissing at him she continued past calling him a particularly rude name that had one of the little femmes laughing as she ran back to finish her chores. Dark thoughts momentarily interrupted, Ratchet chuckled and followed Charging Wind around the camp closer to the ledge where North Wind's tent was set up.

Like a lightning flash, the moment of amusement didn't last as Ratchet followed Charging Wind around the curve of the hunter-warriors' tent and the dull sand brown fabric of North Wind's tent came into view. It was the largest tent in the camp, but North Wind was yet to take a bondmate. A dark purple banner raised on the middle pole snapped in the breeze. On the tent flap was a soaring saqr silhouetted by the suns, but it wasn't visible at the moment with the flap tied back. "Leaping Sand says North Wind is out on a hunting trip," Ratchet said keeping his voice as neutral as he could. Personally, he thought it frivolous for North Wind to always be out. He wasn't trained as a hunter-warrior and probably slowed those warriors down more than anything. But he was clan leader and who was going to say No to him? Well, Ratchet would, but that would cause more problems than it was worth.

Not far from the entrance to North Wind's tent the hides and packs were stacked in semi-neat piles. Neat enough he knew Rockfall or Whistler must have told the assisting warriors to take care until everything had been thoroughly searched. "Of course he is," she muttered, not too loud since there were other warriors milling about poking at the packs with interest. "It's not like there's anything else to be done in the clan. Might as well go off on a little trip." She dropped the last of her packs and Ratchet set his two down with more care and moved one of the empty bags over them. The snooping warriors gave him a curious look but that was one surprise Ratchet wasn't going to ruin. He was certain Whistler would leave that part out as well when he told his story tonight. The warriors sighed and huffed and left the piles of goods following their noses to the common area where it sounded—and smelled—like dinner was about ready.

"Bringing the mechling in?" Charging Wind asked as they started in that direction. He heard Whistler's loud laugh and a swell of noise, probably from the younger members of the clan urging him to tell the story. The noise and smell was all familiar to him but to a small mechling who didn't belong in the desert it might be a bit much.

"No," he said as they came in sight of the fire. "It's been a long journey for him and he's only just met Leaping Sand. I think he'll be more confident tomorrow." Charging Wind nodded once and called a greeting a couple of her friends threatening to put Whistler in a headlock if he didn't get started. Ratchet smiled too. He missed these loud nights with his family while he was on the trail. And once North Wind returned and they went through the packs it was going to be even louder once the clan knew about the jewels and map.

 **oOo**

The first night back after any time away from camp was always the best. Ratchet's recharge was dreamless and deep. There were no watches to keep, for now at least. The night sounds were familiar and no prickly sensations of being stalked flared. The mechling stayed curled against him and neither one of them moved a finger until the suns were halfway over the horizon.

Ratchet woke when the tent flap was pulled open. Leaping Sand ducked in with a fresh bundle of herbs in hand. Lifting his head he blinked and looked at the pale brown tent walls that were made sand gold by the suns' light. He rarely recharged so deep he didn't hear Leaping Sand stir with the first hint of dawn. The mechling snored softly in his arms still bundled in his blanket with his thumb in his mouth. Slowly moving his arms out from under the small mech he didn't disturb the mechling when he stood without a whisper of sound. Leaping Sand glanced at the tiny snoring bundle and a delighted smile broke across her face. "I remember when you snored so adorably. Now I have to throw things at you."

Ratchet flipped his fins up and back. Stretching his shoulders, stiff from hauling the sledge and tense nights of watching the dark, he finally felt the last of the tension leave him. He was home. He looked around the semi-dark interior and found the mechling's bright cloak in a second. "Did you see Red Spool?" he asked softly. Leaping Sand spread out a small hide and dropped the herbs on it. Night Bliss.

He frowned when he saw it. It wasn't an herb she harvested often. In small amounts it made recharging easier, could ease nightmares or numb grief enough the mech or femme could slip into recharge. The amount had to be carefully prepared though, too much and it would send the wounded's spark to the ancestors in the guise of a dream. Leaping Sand kept only the tiniest amount prepared and hid it well away from the other herbs. If she was preparing more then she had used what she had in reserve. "What happened?"

Leaping Sand sighed and looked at the mechling, sorrow turned her optics almost black before she blinked and they were their usual gold. "Suns' Blessing and Arrow lost their spark," she said in a quiet voice hardly heard. Ratchet's fins slicked back flat to his head in terrible surprise.

His own plans for the orn pushed aside he knelt in front of Leaping Sand. Suns' Blessing and Arrow had been trying for seasons to make a spark. At the end of the last Hunting Season the entire clan had celebrated when Leaping Sand confirmed there was a second resonance in Suns' Blessing's spark. "What happened," Ratchet asked again, stricken. They had been so overjoyed. He was frightened by what the Night Bliss meant for one or both of their sanity. He looked back at the small mechling still recharging peacefully. He hadn't seen the pair when they returned yesterorn. What would it do to them to see Ratchet, unmated and with a well-known impatience with little ones, with a mechling trailing on his heels.

Leaping Sand sighed again optics roaming over the herbs dangling from the ceiling. "Sometimes it happens," she said softly. "The ancestors don't give us reasons why, they just take the spark back." A gentle hand rough from a lifetime of training with weapons and harvesting prickly desert plants touched his cheek. "There are things you can't control, Ratchet. There are things you can't fix. That is always the hardest lesson of healing. It's nothing done or not done, it's simply the way it is."

Letting out a long gust of air Ratchet nodded after a moment. If Leaping Sand hadn't been able to do anything Ratchet certainly couldn't. His mentor had seasons upon seasons of experience in dealing with every type of injury the desert could give. He was skilled with wounds but he had very little experience in dealing with sparks not yet part of the world. Her thumb stroking his cheek, a familiar touch that settled him, he said, "I heard nothing about it and felt nothing amiss, they didn't break?" he murmured.

Glancing at the Night Bliss, Leaping Sand was long enough in answering Ratchet knew he wouldn't like what she said. "The wound is fresh and they are not themselves. It could be orns yet before we know for certain how deep the damage is. Arrow has always been a calm warrior; I hope that part of his nature will help them both." She turned to the herbs to begin preparing them. It was far more than she usually collected. "I did see Red Spool," she said, answering his original question. "He's by the fire trading insults with Canyon Thunder." Taking another deep breath, Ratchet nodded and stood. Putting life on hold just to fret wasn't a viable option. Checking on the mechling happily snuggled in his blankets he picked up the small cloak and left the tent.

Red Spool was still at the fire, golden optics bright as Canyon Thunder called his creator a diseased burrow rat. Most of the warriors were awake listening to the never ending battle with recharge heavy smiles. Red Spool was the best travelled of their clan in living memory—odd for a mech sparked to be a weaver—but it made his insults all the more creative. His seasons spent with the merchant caravans and their mercenary guards stood in him good stead when it came to these verbal battles. Slight of frame his shoulders were a bit hunched from a lifetime of bending over blankets and garments and mending tents and the many other things the weavers and seamstresses did for the clan. In the morning light the faint tinge of rust red that had helped name him was bright as he threw his head back and laughed. Old as he was the sound was full and deep as if it came from a mech less than half his age.

Sitting on a stone only two mechs away from him was Charging Wind and whispering something to her that had them both laughing was Snake Charm. Whistler didn't rise until the suns were near their peak unless he absolutely had to. Charging Wind's quick optics brightened when they saw him and then turned sharp with inquisitiveness when she saw he had the mechling's cloak in hand. Since she would pounce on him anyway, he angled over to her and sat down on the side closest to Red Spool. It sounded like Canyon Thunder was running out of steam but Red Spool had an impish smile on his face.

"What are you doing with that?" Charging Wind asked nodding at the cloak. Snake Charm was just as interested. Her green optics had a golden sheen that had given her, her name. Ratchet glanced at Canyon Thunder still trying to dig up one more insult while Red Spool grinned.

"As soon as Red Spool finishes burying Canyon Thunder, I thought to ask him a question," he said loud enough the two older mechs would overhear. Snake Charm's infectious laugh was joined by others as Canyon Thunder sputtered but couldn't think of any insult he hadn't already used. Throwing up his hands he slouched by the fire and poked at the coals a bit before hefting a great clay pot and settling it in the red hot nest. There were three others the same size all ready to be added to the coals for heating. Breakfast usually consisted of scraps from the night before stewed with whatever roots the cooks could find during the Lean Season. During Hunting Season the meals were a bit more varied and elaborate, but now when water and game were scarce every little bit from the bones to the feet and hooves were used to stretch meals a little further. The stores from the mechling's camp would make the cooks' jobs a little easier since they wouldn't have to worry about drying meat for a septorn or so.

Letting the other mech sulk, Red Spool turned to Ratchet still wearing his winning grin. "Could this design be copied for an adult?" he asked handing the weaver the small poncho. Red Spool was the oldest mech in the clan but his faded optics were sharp and his hands quick as they held up the cloak and turned it a few different ways.

"Seems like it would be simple enough," he said after a moment, fingering the laces across the front with a thoughtful expression. "It's very well made. The little one comes from a clan with gifted hands." He turned it inside out and looked over the seams. Another nearby weaver, Threadbare, ambled over to see what Red Spool had. Her optics were just as sharp as Red Spool's and the two began a conversation Ratchet couldn't follow using words he, as a warrior and healer, had never needed to know. They did a lot of pointing and seemed excited about whatever they were seeing so he figured it was all good news.

After a few breems, Threadbare jumped up and ran to the tent she shared with three others and returned with a scrap of hide and piece of charcoal. The two of them continued turning the cloak all different directions and haggling over details as Threadbare made lines on the hide that made little sense to Ratchet. He'd seen the hides before and was absolutely fascinated by how the weavers and seamstresses could take the random slashes and dashes and somehow turn them into garments or intricately designed blankets.

Red Spool handed the cloak back to him and looked him up and down a few times. Had he been a warrior, it would have been aggressive, but the weaver was as lost with weapons as Ratchet was with fabric so he held still and waited to hear what Red Spool had to say. After another breem Red Spool nodded as if they'd been conversing. "With the way the top is designed we'll have to take some measurements."

"It'd be nice to see the little one in that as well so we can see how snug it fits," Threadbare slid in, as if the two had practiced. Ratchet nodded at both things. Both Red Spool and Threadbare's optics were bright as they looked over the hide filled with notes. Ratchet didn't think the weavers and seamstresses were much different from warriors. They both liked new challenges and unique ways to use their skills. The tools were different, but watching the two continue to smooth out the details of how to make the cloak was like watching a group of raiding party leaders discuss the best way to attack.

Leaving the weavers to their battle plans he turned to the others that had trickled in as he'd been engaged with Red Spool. The tank rumbling scent of warming food was beginning to thicken the air and with it came more and more of the clan ready to get breakfast and start their orn. "Has Leaping Sand attached herself to the little one yet?" Charging Wind asked.

Ratchet stood and stretched his back. "If I don't come back with him, the answer is yes," he said. The two femmes snorted and then waved at a hunter-warrior following his nasal ridge to the smell of breakfast. Ratchet didn't rush to the tent and stopped to say hello to one or two warriors he hadn't seen the evening before. He was happy to amble his way back until Boulder ducked out of his tent and unerringly his dark optics landed on Ratchet and narrowed when he scowled. Ratchet resisted the urge to glower back at him but left off his slow walk and picked a more determined pace. There was always peace early in the morning, but now that Boulder was awake he could feel the ripples of tension beginning to run through the clan. Being Leaping Sand's apprentice made him an early riser, but he kept up with the habit even on mornings like this when he didn't have to so he could enjoy being with his clan as he had been when he was a youngling.

The mechling blinked up at him when he ducked into the tent. When he recognized Ratchet a dazzling smile lit up his optics and a second later his small body collided with Ratchet's leg and he hugged him tightly. "Mechling," Ratchet said stroking the top of his head. "I wasn't gone so long."

Leaping Sand sighed softly. "I tried to tell him you weren't far, but he's been distressed since he woke without you." Bending down, Ratchet hoisted the small mech into his arms. The mechling curled against him in a familiar position and sighed deeply as if he hadn't taken a full breath since he woke. "You'll have to treat him gently, Ratchet," Leaping Sand said a shadow of sorrow in her optics. "His wounds are deep even if we can't see them." He squeezed the mechling close for a spark pulse.

"Have you eaten yet?" he asked. Leaping Sand never ate on a schedule. Sometimes she ate before the suns rose and sometimes she ate with everyone else. Some of the younglings thought she didn't eat at all and just ran on the relentless light of the suns.

Shaking her head she brushed off her hands and set the leaves in a container only ever used for Night Bliss. Standing, she secreted the leaves away in a still dark section of the tent. "How's the weather?" she asked.

"Usual," Ratchet sighed. The exchange had nothing to do with the true weather, but with how high tension in the clan was. It had been a subtle friction when he had his fourth color, but since gaining his fifth it had exploded. Some orns he pretended to go out looking for plants just to get away from it. He looked down at the mechling's bright turquoise optics bouncing from Ratchet to Leaping Sand. "You're trying so hard, mechling," he murmured. "We'll keep up with our lessons." That would give him another way to avoid mechs like Boulder and Venom who seemed to agitate the tension whenever they were near him.

"Well," Leaping Sand said, "let's get out there and get something before the mood spoils the food." The mechling perked up at the last word and both Ratchet and Leaping Sand laughed softly. "Picked up on that word, didn't you," Leaping Sand said, tickling his cheek. The mechling's bright smile reappeared. Setting him down he handed the mechling his poncho but once the garment was one the little mech beckoned to be picked up once more.

Walking toward the fire, the crowd had swelled and murmured joyful noise filtered through the tents. With exceptions like Whistler, the clan was awake and beginning their orn. The hunter-warriors would be repairing or sharpening weapons for upcoming hunts, the gatherers, Blue Dawn and High Sun, would be getting water and checking their baskets before they set off in search of what few edible plants thrived under the suns, weavers and seamstresses were probably bickering over the rough map Red Spool had drawn, the cooks Canyon Thunder and Downpour would be chasing the younglings and juveniles out of food not yet ready, and those warriors that had stood watch during the night would be on their way to bidding everyone good night. He smiled a little as they walked. Tension or not, he liked being home with his clan. Whatever was wrong would sort itself out eventually; they may be made up of many families but they were one. The mechling lifted his head and listened curiously to the growing noise with less anxiety than he'd greeted the clan with. He still made no move that he wanted down but he wasn't cowering against Ratchet's chest anymore.

He pulled back a little when the clan came into view. They weren't the biggest clan, but with three dozen adults and almost as many little ones darting to and fro they looked like quite a large group gathered around the fire. Like the odd prickle before a sandstorm roared over the horizon, a fine thread of tension began weaving through those speaking jovially with each other when they caught sight of Ratchet. He ignored it as much as he could, but it still stung a bit seeing those quick furtive glances and feeling the easy peace begin to fracture.

The few that hadn't seen the mechling the evening before sat up in surprise and another layer of tension was added. Ratchet considered putting the mechling down but discarded the idea almost as soon as it formed. He was acting braver now, but his small fingers were still holding tight to Ratchet.

"So this is the foundling we heard about," an overly loud voice said from Ratchet's left. Seasons of practice kept him from scowling when he heard the voice but it was a close thing. Venom wasn't much of an early riser. With North Wind off galivanting with the hunter-warriors, Ratchet had been hoping to avoid him for most of the orn.

The mechling swiveled to the sound and pulled back a bit more against Ratchet, a fine thread of tension humming through his frame. Thin and quick as a thueban, Venom's attitude was just a pleasant. He had only a strip of soft grey fabric tied around his waist leaving his chest exposed to the warm morning light. His bright silver frame had slashes of white scars running all over it. He was the oldest warrior in North Wind's circle of advisors and had survived more battles than Ratchet had seasons. "Venom," Ratchet said in a normal voice having no need or patience with theatrics. He couldn't ignore the mech like he would any other that annoyed him. With North Wind gone he was one of the acting advisors with as much authority as the clan leader himself.

It took conscious thought to keep his cephalic fins from rising when Venom stopped toe to toe with him. Indigo optics stayed hard and sharp as the shorter mech tried to stare him down. The mechling pulled back all the way and unlike the others the evening before, Venom did not try to soothe him. Conversations dropped off little by little until it was only the wind and fire disturbing the air. Leaping Sand smoothly stepped in to take the mechling from Ratchet, forcing Venom to back up a step and he shot her a glare she ignored. "Not very big," Venom said watching Leaping Sand sit next to her closest friend, Deluge. The mechling hid close to her but continued to watch Ratchet with a depth of fear Ratchet thought no mech so young should have.

"He is young," Ratchet said in a flippant answer to Venom's cutting remark. The mechling's hunger won out over his fear when Leaping Sand held out a small bowl of stew to him. But he wasn't as enthusiastic about the meal as he had been during the hike back. Every few seconds his optics darted around the quiet fire and then back to Ratchet. Sifting through his memories of the hike he found a word in the mechling's language. "Chir." He was pretty sure the word meant either _eat_ or _food_ based on how the mechling always chirruped it when they stopped to eat. The mechling blinked and looked down at his bowl and then back at Ratchet but he did start spending more time sipping at the stew instead of watching everyone around him.

"Yes, a new young one as we go into the Lean Season. You didn't time it very well," Venom said, still loud enough everyone could hear. Venom didn't blink as he stared at Ratchet. It took another conscious thought to keep him from returning the silent challenge. Starting an outright quarrel with Venom wasn't going fix whatever issue the mech had with him.

Shrugging a shoulder with forced indifference Ratchet said, "This is the time the Suns saw fit." The key to keeping his temper with these warriors was in short vague sentences. If he actually had a conversation with any of them he'd probably pull a knife. That the short sentences seemed to irritate them was a side bonus.

"So it would seem," Venom said, a thread of anger tracing each word. "You were to find more supplies for the Lean Season," he said standing so close their chests almost touched. Ratchet was about two hands taller and used that height advantage to literally look down on him.

"I did."

Silence reigned as Ratchet and Venom stared at each other. Ratchet didn't blink and didn't look away, his temper piqued and no amount of caution or common sense would bring it down.

"North Wind will have final say over him, as is his right as clan leader," Venom said at last.

"That was never in question," he said without blinking.

"Be sure you remember that," Venom hissed finally lowering his voice enough not everyone could hear it. Ratchet still didn't blink or look away. Still looking down at the old warrior he didn't move until Venom turned away and took three steps to the fire.

The mechling's bowl was only half gone but he set it to the side and wriggled loose from Leaping Sand so he could pounce on Ratchet. Ratchet crouched down with a trace of confusion. There was indeed tension between himself and North Wind and his advisors—and therefore tension within the clan—but it wasn't as if they were on the brink of war.

"Mechling?" he murmured. The little one had been so joyful on the hike back, but now he was fearful and timid. When he was certain Ratchet was still whole and uninjured he finally returned to Leaping Sand's side and picked up his bowl. Ratchet sat near him and rolled his neck back and forth to work out the kinks he always got after such confrontations. He watched the small mech finally jump into his breakfast with some of the enthusiasm he'd had on the trail.

"He's afraid of losing you," Deluge said softly as conversation slowly returned. "Where did you find him? I've never seen a little one so fearful." He knew every audio within range was now listening keenly, but Deluge was much like Leaping Sand, she didn't mine for gossip. There was genuine concern for the mechling in her misty blue optics. She crooned and rumbled softly at the mechling when he looked up and the little mech gave her a shy smile that made her fins flick up in delight. "He is a cute little thing," she said. "A little more confidence and we'll have to hide him from everyone seeking a bondmate."

Ratchet laughed and looked at the little mech who was less fearful now that Ratchet was beside him and looking between the adults with bright optics. Leaping Sand also laughed and stroked the top of his head. "Such a smart little mech, you'll grow into a fine healer."

The mechling perked up a bit at the last word. "Meyoh?"

"Yes," Ratchet said, "Healer, meyoh." The mechling nodded and pointed to himself repeating his word for Healer to the delight of both Leaping Sand and Deluge. The conversation began to dip again and when Ratchet looked up he felt his spark constrict. Suns' Blessing slowly sat down with obvious distance between himself and the rest of the clan. His optics that should have been bright sky blue were indigo and exhaustion lined his face. It was more than the lingering hold of Night Bliss. This type of exhaustion wasn't something any amount of recharge could fix. Arrow was nowhere to be seen and Ratchet hoped the other mech was still in recharge. Arrow and Suns' Blessing were their clan's very own love story. The two had been inseparable since the moment they ran into each other—literally—when they were younger than the mechling. He didn't think they would be strong enough to survive the loss if they put distance between them.

Suns' Blessing didn't look at anyone, his optics drifting listlessly. He hardly seemed aware of the rest of the clan only a few paces away. That might be the Night Bliss lingering. Having taken it once after Bright Star was killed Ratchet could attest to the strange dream-like quality everything had for a joor after waking. "He'll come back to us when he's ready," Leaping Sand said just loud enough those nearest would hear. Ratchet rubbed his optics with one hand and squashed the unrelenting need to _fix this_ that was a pulse in his body. There was pain in Suns' Blessing but it was not a wound Ratchet or Leaping Sand had the tools or plants to fix. Suns' Blessing would have to learn how to heal in his own way.

The mechling brushed against Ratchet when he stood and walked with slow but certain steps to Suns' Blessing. Ratchet opened his mouth to call him back but held his voice a second longer, waiting to see what Suns' Blessing would do. With him sitting on the ground, the mechling was optic level with the adult mech. He said a soft string of words Ratchet was certain meant _what's wrong_. Suns' Blessing turned to the sound and it was a second before his dark optics registered he was looking at an unfamiliar face. A flicker of curiosity brightened his optics a shade and the tightness in Ratchet's chest loosened a wire. The mechling tilted his head to the side, the tiny frown he sometimes wore when he was thinking hard firmly on his face.

Without further words the mechling climbed into Suns' Blessing's lap and snuggled against his chest as he liked to do with Ratchet. Surprise brightened Suns' Blessing's optics to their usual shade. They darkened again after a moment, but not to the crushing indigo they had been. Slowly his arms folded around the mechling and he lowered his head to rest against the mechling's. Silence permeated the camp.

Leaping Sand was the one to break up the hushed moment. "You're right, Ratchet," she said in a soft voice. "He is a good little healer."

 **oOo**

Ratchet stepped lightly through the cluster of tents on his way to see Red Spool after the suns moved from their peak. One of the little femmes had skipped by Leaping Sand's tent to tell him he was needed for measurements. He'd left off helping Leaping Sand grind rust leaf into powder to find the weavers. The smooth repetition of grinding had lulled the anger Venom had stirred and the anxiety about Suns' Blessing and Arrow.

He hadn't seen much of the mechling since the morning, the little mech content to spend the orn padding after Suns' Blessing. Ratchet had caught sight of Arrow as well and while the warrior didn't look as he had before Ratchet left there was life in him. From somewhere to his left he heard the distinctive coo and rise and fall of the mechling's voice. He sounded like he was explaining something. A smile lifted the corner of Ratchet's mouth but he kept walking. Whatever it was the mechling was doing it was healing in its own way.

He found Red Spool in the same place he'd been the orn before. This time though, Threadbare and Silk were sitting close to him. They had a dirt brown piece of fabric spread out in front of them that was covered with several other pieces of fabric in colors ranging from dark blue to tan brown.

Silk was only a generation older than Ratchet but he laughed and gossiped with the older weavers as if they were the same age. Sometimes Ratchet envied the other functions in the clan. Rockfall was more relaxed about being addressed by the younger warriors, but some—like Venom and Stormwind—were sticklers for formality. Even with Rockfall there was a baseline amount of deference expected when addressing him. Given Red Spool's age everyone treated him with a certain amount of respect, but the youngest members of the clan could run up and address him with the same familiarity as one of his peers. If a little one like Jade Helm tried to do that with a warrior like Boulder they'd get a scolding that could set fire to the sands.

As he rounded the corner he saw the temperamental warrior sitting somewhat removed from the weavers with several swords and knives next to him and a whetstone in hand. The weavers looked up when he was closer and greeted him enthusiastically. At once the random pieces of tawny brown he'd thought were scraps were snatched up. In seconds he was besieged as they held up the pieces against his shoulders and chest and checked the length from his neck to hip. Their voices blended into a rush of noise and nonsense as they spoke to each other in their weaver code. Pieces of charcoal were used to make marks on the fabric and they held them this way and that. He kept still, unused to the amount of gusto the weavers were using. A few others who were nearby watched the spectacle with varying degrees of amusement. All except Boulder who steadfastly ignored everything going on around him as he sharpened a sword Ratchet knew belonged to Venom.

Like a sandstorm, as quickly as they'd overtaken him they were back to their seats looking at the different marks they'd made and talking to and over each other while they picked up more uncut fabric. Ratchet blinked twice and thought about asking if they needed him to stay but Threadbare and Silk were now arguing with Red Spool about a particular set of dashes and it didn't look like Red Spool was going to give in any time soon.

Quietly backing away, he left them to their work. But as he was making his great escape Canyon Thunder came around a tent carrying a basket with stringy greens peeking over the sides and he was reminded of the packs of food and water sitting near North Wind's tent. "Canyon Thunder, we picked up some dried foodstuffs at the mechling's camp," Ratchet said, angling in the direction of North Wind's tent. Canyon Thunder perked up and started to follow him until Boulder set aside his whetstone and blades.

The old warrior cut off his path like the moons moving in front of the suns. "They will keep until North Wind's return." Ratchet flipped his fins up and back in annoyance. Boulder was making up for Venom's loss that morning. It was foolish politics to keep resources from the clan because the leader was out hunting. Bright Star would have allowed the cooks to take the foodstuffs. Canyon Thunder quietly went on his way without looking at either of them and Ratchet's annoyance deepened.

"Most of what's in those packs are food and water. Canyon Thunder and Downpour should know what they have so they know what needs to be done," Ratchet argued. He usually didn't bother arguing with Boulder since his opinions were as set as his namesake, but sometimes he had to try. Boulder flared his cephalic fins and stepped toe to toe with Ratchet. Irritated already, he found a point just past Boulder's left cheek to stare at when his temper flared.

"In North Wind's absence, you will abide by what his _advisors_ say, _not_ your own voice." His stare drilled into Ratchet, his flared fins making him seem larger. He was an old warrior, an experienced warrior, but in that moment, Ratchet was willing to take the chance and challenge him. "If you don't like that, then you are free to go into the desert and rule as you see fit." He didn't raise his voice as Venom had, but there was no need. The camp was silent save for the wind snapping tents and flags. Ratchet struggled with his temper for several long seconds. Stupid, _useless_ , politics. It was tempting to walk away and not stop. To go into the desert and take his chances with whatever the gods threw at him. But he wouldn't be going by himself. If he took that journey into the sands he would be bringing the mechling with him. Clamping down hard on his glossa he gave boulder a stiff nod and turned away.

"I feel like I've been mauled," he said as he ducked into Leaping Sand's tent again. His mentor laughed as she stripped leaves off a dried plant. Ratchet picked up his bowl and added a few more leaves from his pile hoping he could find some balance again. "I don't know if the mechling will be back tonight," he said after a few moments of meditative silence, his irritation still high, but no longer spiking to fighting anger.

Leaping Sand canted her head to the side. "He has the spark to help, but he's still young," she said. "I don't think he'll want to be away from you that long." She started grinding the leaves down and they lapsed into silence once more. The pungent odor of rust leaf filled the warm air. Outside the open door a few little ones finished with their chores started a hide and catch game between the tents. Their excited squeals and laughter carried through the camp.

Ratchet was content to spend the evening continuing herb preparation—and as such ignore the rest of the clan—but Leaping Sand urged him up as the shadows grew long. Her knees creaked when she stood after an orn of little movement but she didn't pop or crack like some of the older warriors. "Come on, the mechling will be looking for you and I'm certain Red Spool has a story brewing." Sighing, he did as he was told and carefully packed away the prepared and raw powders and plants. He followed his mentor out of the tent a few breems later. The sky was still pale purple and red but night had already claimed the camp.

"Why are you going to the fire so early?" he asked trying and failing to keep the bite out of his voice. Leaping Sand really didn't eat with the clan all that often out of preference for space and quiet. She just said she was busy so she wouldn't be pestered when meals were served. But here for the second time in the same orn she was heading to the fire at the peak time.

"I'm hungry," she answered flippantly. Ratchet rolled his optics but didn't badger her. He was looking to fight someone and he knew it. He needed to bank his anger or he'd be fighting one of North Wind's advisors. Whatever her reasons for being so early he would find out one way or another. The peace he'd managed to gather while working with plants all orn began to erode once he and Leaping Sand walked into the common area. Boulder and Venom laughed with some of the other older warriors probably about something that happened before Ratchet was sparked. The little ones already had their bowls and sat either with their creators or in small clusters drawing in the dirt with charcoal sticks.

Venom's sharp optics caught Leaping Sand and Ratchet enter and he leveled them both with a warning glare. Ratchet ignored him as much as he could. Instead he angled over to Whistler and Rain Bringer. Whistler still hadn't divulged the whole story of their finding the mechling, wanting to wait until everyone had seen the jewels. But he was pestering Rain Bringer to tell a story about a cave of jewels that was supposedly cursed and hidden by a sorcerer somewhere near the sea. The old mech laughed and pushed him aside. "You've heard that story a thousand times! Are you going to go out there like Hidden Moon and try to find it?"

Hidden Moon had disappeared from their clan when Ratchet had been only a little older than the mechling. The prevailing story was that he'd become enchanted by the story of the cursed cave and gone to find it. Leaping Sand said there had been a deep sadness in him for reasons she'd never been able to figure out and he'd gone into the desert to die.

"That would take too much work," Ratchet said sitting down next to them. "He'd rather hear the story again and then he can tell everyone how he'd find it without actually having to do it." Whistler twisted around to swat him and Rain Bringer laughed. Ratchet didn't think anyone else in the clan thought Hidden Moon committed suicide. He wasn't sure if it was better to have everyone think he'd set off on a foolish journey or if they should know that the warrior had hidden such pain from them.

Shaking off thoughts that would—again—keep him from recharge for the night he let his optics wander over the clan. Everything seemed normal. He had no idea why Leaping Sand had come so early. It felt…comfortable, actually. Boulder and Venom were still occupied with their circle of warriors and not paying attention to him and the others were busy passing bowls around talking about this and that.

"Has Suns' Blessing been by?" he asked softly, not wanting to dampen the mood. Rain Bringer and Whistler both nodded.

"I think it was more the mechling's doing than his own," Rain Bringer said softly. "He and Arrow both came by with him and picked up something to eat before they drifted away again." Sadness darkened his optics. "But," he said, lifting his head a little. "They looked better this orn than they have since it happened." That made Ratchet breathe easier. If others in the clan could see that they were improving he was hoping it would be enough to hold them together.

"Good," Ratchet said softly.

He didn't speak much while he ate, but Whistler spoke enough for two mechs so it didn't matter. He kept watch on the clan and made a note that a warrior of three colors, Brushfire, was limping on her left side. He'd ask Leaping Sand if she'd looked her over and if not he'd catch her before she went to recharge and see what had happened. Blue Dawn was favoring his right hand and it looked like it was a little swollen. One of the small mechlings had a compress on his shoulder and scrapes and dings on his arms and knees. He'd probably slipped down the path or fallen off something but he was active and playing with his friends so Ratchet didn't worry overmuch about him.

As the meal wound down the little ones scooted closer to the fire and looked from Rain Bringer and Whistler to Red Spool expectantly. Ratchet set his empty bowl to the side and smiled as he watched them get ready for a story. The older warriors left and came back with whetstones and blades and settled in a little further from the flames.

"Well," Red Spool said, stretching his arms over his head before dropping his elbows onto his knees. "There's a new little mech running around here and if he's going to be a Saqr he should know how we came to be shouldn't he?" he asked with a smile. The other little ones perked up and looked around searching for the mechling. Ratchet stood catching more than one mech's attention.

Venom snorted. "He doesn't speak our language."

Red Spool gave him a short piercing look that didn't fit with his usual good humor. "No," he said softly, "but that didn't stop him from giving what comfort he could to two of our own." Venom winced at the gentle chastisement and resumed sharpening his blades with more strength than necessary. Red Spool looked away, back to his smiling self. "Besides, it's not the words that are important. It's the feeling. He hasn't had a proper welcome and no matter where he's from he's bound to have heard a story or two. He'll know what's happening." Ratchet agreed. The mechling was more clever than most, he would likely know before Red Spool even began speaking what was happening.

Out of the fire's glow the night was chilly. Stars stretched out above him twinkling like the diamonds on the map. He wound his way through the dark and mostly unoccupied tents to the back of the camp. He knocked softly on the tent closest to the cliff face. It was an easily defensible position, a good place for a creator with a vulnerable spark. A pang of sorrow went through him but he kept it off his face.

Suns' Blessing pulled open the tent flap and gave him a small smile. Arrow and Suns' Blessing were still painfully subdued, but there was life in them that Ratchet would not have expected after his first glimpse of Suns' Blessing that morning. Arrow had the mechling's small bone knife in his hands looking over the craftsmanship. The mechling cooed and chirruped in his own language and pointed at the hilt of the knife. A small smile touched Arrow's mouth as well as the mechling explained things about his knife none of them understood. "Red Spool wants to tell the mechling our story," he said softly, letting an amused smile quirk one corner of his mouth.

Suns' Blessing nodded and looked back at the mechling. Unexpectedly his face crumpled and for a moment the raw pain of his spark was etched on his face. It took two breaths but the moment passed and he said, "Okay," in a barely heard whisper. "I'm going to lie down for the night," he said in a voice loud enough to reach Arrow. Ratchet reached out and took Suns' Blessing's hand in a gentle hold. Certainly both had heard words of grief and regret from the whole clan. He had nothing to add that could wipe away the pain and there was nothing he could do to bring back what they had lost. So, as the mechling had done, he didn't try to fill the silence with words. Suns' Blessing's fingers curled around his in a tight squeeze for a second. "I know the warriors complain of the dents you leave," he said, a flicker of warm humor in his voice. "But you are gentle in your own way, you always have been."

Arrow came to the door with the mechling, his optics still too dark but he looked more attentive than he had that afternoon. The mechling hopped out of the tent and looked back saying a soft word in his language and looking between the bondmates and Ratchet. Arrow crouched down and stroked his cheek with painful tenderness. "Go hear Red Spool's story, little one. We'll see you in the morning." Suns' Blessing ran his fingers down his bondmate's back and for the first time since hearing of the news Ratchet believed they would survive. Looking down at the mechling a wave of warm emotion too gentle to be called pride washed through his spark. He hoped whoever had started the mechling on his path of healing was looking down on him now and seeing what a sweet and gentle spark they had raised.

"Come, little one," he said holding out his hand. The mechling turned to Arrow and Suns' Blessing giving them both a long look, that small frown on his face. Arrow stood and slipped his arms around Suns' Blessing hugging him from behind. That was what convinced the mechling to give them both a hesitant farewell wave.

"Goodnight, little one," Suns' Blessing and Arrow said softly. Arrow pressed a kiss to his bondmate's shoulder and closed his optics. The mechling's small hand took his and they left the bondmates, the little one looking back every few steps.

Stroking the top of his head Ratchet said, "They'll make it, little one." He glanced back as well, but the two had retired inside their tent and all was dark. "I hope while you helped them heal you found some peace as well," he said softly. The mechling looked up at him when he heard the word _heal_ and then back at the tent.

"Meyoh," he said softly.

"Yes," Ratchet agreed. "A very good little meyoh."

The mechling still looked troubled as they came into the firelight but the number of mechs and femmes around the fire pulled him away from his thoughts enough he hid shyly behind Ratchet's leg. Several of the little ones his size looked him over curiously. Ratchet sat directly on the ground two femmes to Red Spool's left. The mechling climbed into his lap as soon as he sat and a small smile tugged the corner of Ratchet's mouth. Looking at the mechs and femmes around him and at the fire cleared of food his optics brightened. "Gushi?" he asked hesitantly. He looked up at Ratchet and around the fire again.

Red Spool laughed. "See, he knows what's going on." The mechling turned to him and immediately wriggled into a more comfortable position before he focused on Red Spool again. The other little ones also turned to Red Spool with eager excitement though they had heard the story of Saqr many times. Red Spool had a way to his story telling that made even the oldest stories brand new. Whistler slid in to a spot across the fire from Ratchet and lay on his chest like a youngling watching Red Spool. He was a good story teller in his own right, but he had idolized Red Spool since they were little. He never missed Red Spool's stories if he was in camp.

 **oOo**

 _In the beginning, this world was not kind. There were great monsters and even greater titans that roamed the land. The titans were so vast they could crush a tent with one step or swat warriors away like biting flies. The great rolling dunes were nothing more than gentle hills, the wide canyons they could jump across with ease._

 _It was beneath these titans we scurried like insects, always in fear of their looming shadows. Were the titans kind, we might have lived together and found ways to roust the monsters that lived in the springs and stole food. But they were ill-tempered beasts who warred with each other; unconcerned about crushing us and others in their need to spill energon. They tore mountains down, collapsed canyons, and laid waste to everything in their path. Great fires were lit burning everything there was to eat and great dams were built blocking even the smallest drops of water from flowing through the rivers._

 _It was one orn, a warrior only half-grown saw a titan striding with great thunderous steps toward his small clan. The ground shook with each step startling animals far and wide. The titan was moving too fast for the clan to flee though, and the titans never looked down to see how their pounding steps could cause such pain._

 _A saqr and her chicks were also in the path of the titan. The creator was terrified her chicks who had only begun to taste life would be sent to the stars. She flew from her nest and screamed frantically telling the titan to turn back. The titan paid her no mind, her small voice hardly heard over the sound of his feet. The creator flew back and forth hoping to distract him as she did with the other predators that tried to take her chicks. But the titan didn't stop. With a final scream, the saqr attacked the titan._

 _She was only a grain of sand to the beast, but even a single grain of sand can cause pain. She dove for his optics using her sharp talons to scratch and tear. The clan below stood in awe as this single saqr made the titan stumble. The titan roared in pain and tried to strike the saqr from the sky, but she was too small, too quick. The titan stopped walking but didn't turn back and she didn't stop._

 _She continued her attack even when her wings grew heavy and tired. She would not allow harm to come to her chicks while her spark pulsed. The warriors from the small clan saw the brave saqr beginning to tire and they picked up their weapons. They too found the courage to charge the titan. Bigger than a lone saqr they caused the titan even greater pain shooting arrows as high as they could and jabbing spears into his feet. The titan finally had enough and kicked at the warriors killing many of them and still trying to strike the saqr from the air. But the warriors that remained continued shooting their arrows and throwing their spears until the titan turned and fled._

 _The saqr knew the titan would not return and the last of her strength left her. She fell to the ground, her wings broken. Even so, she still tried to return to her chicks to say goodbye to the little ones that meant more to her than her own life._

 _The warriors took her to her chicks and swore that they would care for the chicks and make sure they grew strong. And when they were grown, the warriors promised they would end the titans._

 **oOo**

"And since no one has seen a titan, we made good on that promise," Red Spool said sitting back. The mechling made a little humming sound and Ratchet was certain his optics were bright even if he couldn't see his face. He thought the little mech might recognize the words for _saqr_ and a few others that they had taught on the way back but he could only imagine what mechling thought the story was about.

"We'll have to tell you again when you learn some more words," Ratchet said stroking his back. The femme next to him laughed softly and smiled at the little mechling. The little mech looked up at Ratchet expectantly and then back at Red Spool. Ratchet held him closer when he shivered a little. "Red Spool has a thousand and more stories, little one. You'll hear them all eventually, no need to do it in one night."

"I do wonder what stories he knows," Red Spool said wistfully. "Charging Wind told me some of the words you learned, I don't recognize any of them. Neither does Switchback." Ratchet sighed as well. It wasn't the end, it just made things more difficult.

"One orn, mechling," he said softly, "we'll be able to have a real conversation."

As the young ones began to say their goodnights Ratchet gently set the mechling aside and stood to search for Brushfire and Blue Dawn. He saw Leaping Sand weaving through the herd of little ones toward the fire where High Sun was sitting with some of the hunter-warriors. Since she seemed intent on hunting down Blue Dawn, Ratchet turned his attention to finding Brushfire.

She wasn't too hard to find. The short time she'd been sitting had allowed her leg to stiffen and her gait was slow and awkward. "Femmling," Ratchet said coming up behind her. "Sit before you fall over." The young femme had the grace to slick her fins back in embarrassment. She did as she was told and despite Ratchet's gruff words he kept his touch light as he felt from her ankle to her knee. Her exoform was hot to the touch and with her legs lined up next to each other he could see how swollen her ankle was. "Brushfire, you shouldn't be walking on this at all. What happened?" He had the herbs to bring down the swelling, but he didn't have any cloth for wrapping on him. He'd have to go to Leaping Sand's tent and pick some up as well as a bowl and a bit of water for mixing.

Brushfire ducked her head and winced when he found the sorest part of the injury. "I missed a block in sparring this morning and got tossed," she said softly.

Ratchet's fins shot up in surprise. "This happened this _morning_? You'll make yourself lame walking around like this. Someone should have gotten one of us." The last part was an angry growl. Little ones were resilient with injuries, but their injuries still needed to be cared for.

"Meyoh," the mechling said softly next to Ratchet. He crooned when he saw Brushfire's ankle and said a few words in his language. He was off and darting through the crowd when Ratchet turned to look at him, his bright cloak like a flame bouncing between the dark tents.

"Snap was going to, but Boulder said it wasn't that bad. He said if it hurt I wouldn't make the same mistake again," Brushfire said looking at her lap.

Ratchet put his temper in a stranglehold so he wouldn't frighten her. "Boulder can well teach you how to fight, but you leave the healing to the healers. Had you come to us when this happened you would be nothing but sore come morning. As it is now you need to stay off this for a couple orns." She was small enough he could carry her to Leaping Sand's tent and get her fixed up. The femmling wilted under his words but she didn't complain. Having sprained an ankle when he was younger he knew how much it had to have hurt initially. After an orn of walking on it he was surprised she wasn't in tears. "There's a difference between conditioning yourself to pain and causing damage. Sore knuckles after a morning of sparring is conditioning. This pain you feel now is damage. You make yourself weaker when you try to ignore it. A body can only take so much damage before it stops working properly."

The mechling returned to his side with a quiet word and when Ratchet looked up he found the little mech's arms full of cloth wrappings, a bowl, and a small water pitcher. He blinked in surprise and then a wide smile spread across his face. "Well done, mechling," he said warmly. The little mech put the bowl and pitcher down but kept the wrappings in hand so they wouldn't get covered in dust. Pulling out the pouches he needed Ratchet dropped in a few pinches of Bleed Weed, Rust Leaf, and Dawn Fire. He told the mechling what he was doing but most of the words were useless. Pouring in the water just a few drops at a time he mixed it with his fingers until it was a smooth paste. The mechling watched every move he made with bright optics. Taking a wrapping from the mechling he spread a thin coating over it and used a little bit more water to wash off Brushfire's ankle. He didn't wrap it tight, just enough it wouldn't slip off while the femmling recharged.

"What trouble did you find, Brushfire?" Leaping Sand asked coming up behind Ratchet. Ratchet made a noise in the back of throat that made the femmling duck her head again. Leaping Sand flicked the back of his head. "Hush, you did foolish things too when you were young," his mentor said without anger. Ratchet finished wrapping her ankle and easily scooped her up. Her leg all the way up to her knee was too warm and there were faint lines of pain bracketing her mouth.

"I fell wrong in sparring this morning," the femmling said softly, curling close to Ratchet's chest.

"This morning?"

"This morning," Ratchet repeated his temper beginning to spike. He walked surefooted through the dark keeping his steps short and even so he wouldn't jar her leg any more than necessary. He found Brushfire's tent near the hunter-warriors. Her creator and the other family they shared a tent with were already in for the night. Worry flashed in her creator's optics when she saw the femmling in Ratchet's arms. "A bad sprain," he said softly. "Keep her off it tomorrow. One of us will be by to check during the orn. Do you have any extra pillows or blankets she can rest it on? It will help the swelling go down." He settled the femmling on the bedroll her creator motioned to. One of the other femmes came over with a couple extra blankets folded tightly. Getting her foot settled on the blanket Ratchet stood and wished them goodnight. With a quiet thank you her creator sat down next to Brushfire with a weary sigh.

He wound his way back to Leaping Sand's tent listening to the clan settle down for the night. Some tents were already dark and others were softly lit with shadows playing across the canvas as older mechs started gambling games or continued conversations that had started at dinner. In more than one tent a youngling cried or tried to put off recharge time just a little longer. Looking up at the sky and the dusting of stars he let the quiet sounds wash past him. There was peace out in the desert when nothing but the wind and alkilab called to each other. But surrounded by his clan he felt truly peaceful.

Ducking into Leaping Sand's tent he found the mechling practicing how to wrap an ankle with Leaping Sand's experienced hands guiding him through the motions. He had many memories of similar lessons and smiled at the mechling's fierce look of concentration. He moved along the side of the tent so he wouldn't distract. He thought about continuing with grinding the herbs but ruled against it. He wanted to get out early with Leaping Sand and bring the mechling with them. He could start to learn the desert plants most often used in healing.

"There you go," Leaping Sand said. "Very good, little healer." Ratchet glanced up and found the mechling beaming and Leaping Sand stroking the top of his head. "I wonder if you've done that before or if you learned just by watching Ratchet," she said softly.

"Boulder told her not to come to us. He wanted to use the pain as a lesson," Ratchet said as Leaping Sand began unwinding the wrapping. The mechling ran over to Ratchet and sprawled out on the bedroll with a tired huff. Ratchet chuckled softly. "Did you tire yourself with all your healing today, little one?" he murmured. The mechling wriggled out of his poncho and instead rolled himself up in a blanket.

Leaping Sand watched the mechling with a smile but her words were hard and sharp as flint. "He is a fool then. I will remind him that healers have the final say on injuries." The mechling sighed and snuggled deeper into his blanket his turquoise optics only half open. Ratchet stroked the top of his head and lay down next to him with his own tired sigh. Leaping Sand blew out the lamp and the tent plunged into darkness.

 **oOo**

The hunting party returned two orns later with a rush of noise that frightened the mechling away from the game he'd been playing with some of the other little ones. Ratchet picked him up and did his best to soothe him but the tension he'd put aside since returning to the clan reared up. He recognized North Wind's deep voice rising above the others. He considered going to Leaping Sand's tent for the rest of the orn, but he was still keeping an optic on Brushfire and all the others during their daily sparring lessons. Boulder didn't like his presence on the fringe of his lessons but Ratchet didn't care if it made the warrior more hostile towards him. He wasn't going to let the glitch's idiotic ideas of 'toughening up' permanently injure the young mechs and femmes of their clan.

As it was now, the big warrior pushed past Ratchet hard enough he had to take a step to catch himself. His fingers itched for a knife but he kept his hand on the mechling clinging to his neck. There had been a time when he was young that he'd been one of the many pelting out to see the warriors' return. He hadn't had a sire in their ranks, but Bright Star had always greeted him as one. Now, seeing the warriors come up the path he felt a sharp pain in his spark when he didn't see Bright Star's pale grey head mixed in with the others.

North Wind was the same height as Ratchet but his shoulders were twice as broad. He was a living mountain moving among the lithe hunter-warriors. Two of the warriors carried bundles of burrow rats tied by their hind feet. One of the younger hunter-warriors had two fat thueban in hand but none carried bigger game.

He knew the moment Venom whispered to North Wind that Ratchet had returned because the mech's smiling face darkened to a glower. Ratchet kept his place and did his best to keep his expression neutral. The sharp opticked hunter-warriors saw Ratchet and the mechling seconds after they reached the clan. There was a fair bit of surprise on some of their faces but for those that were close with North Wind their surprise turned swiftly to cold suspicion.

North Wind schooled his face and his optics roamed over the crowd until he found Ratchet and for a brief second he looked as surprised as everyone else, but he caught himself and his face turned unreadable a breath later. "The raiding party has returned so soon?" he yelled, his voice loud enough to carry down to the river bed. The mechling tucked even closer to Ratchet. He held the small mech close to his chest feeling the faint flutter of his spark. The low hum of tension that Venom and Boulder had been feeding since Ratchet's return exploded into anxiety. Ratchet sighed and rested his head against the mechling's.

North Wind walked through the crowd straight to Ratchet. A strip of dark purple fabric wrapped around his waist was his only protection. The hunter-warriors wore gauntlets and shin guards or hard leather as well as close fitting sheaths of fabric to protect themselves from claws and fangs. Ratchet always wondered how much hunting North Wind actually did. Bright Star had gone out hunting on occasion, he had always dressed similar to the hunter-warriors. North Wind's sun gold optics were frigid as he looked over Ratchet. "You must have fought with great skill to avoid injury," he said still in his overly loud voice.

"Whistler has the details," Ratchet said in a normal voice in a not-so-subtle way reminding North Wind that Ratchet wasn't the one who would answer his questions. Whistler had been party leader, the clan leader's questions were supposed to be addressed to him. North Wind blinked once and the glower returned.

"Of course," he said and tried to push past Ratchet but intuiting what the big mech was going to do, Ratchet had already stepped to the side and North Wind was left stepping awkwardly.

Sighing, he put the mechling down. Instead of going back to his game he left Ratchet's side and skipped over to where Arrow was talking to a hunter-warrior. Arrow smiled with a flicker of true happiness when the mechling came up next to him. Those who were paying attention stood in disbelief first looking at Ratchet and then at the mechling chattering and cooing at Arrow.

Leaving the mechling to Arrow, Ratchet returned to his chores and studiously ignored North Wind and everyone who was watching him ignore North Wind.

When Bright Star would have called a meeting immediately to sort through what had been found, North Wind chose instead to focus on preparing the game the hunter-warriors had found. It wasn't much for the time they'd been gone. Another party would have to go out in a few orns. It didn't take long for the hunter-warriors to turn their talk to how quickly the Lean Season had begun, faster than it had the cycle before. Some of the older hunter-warriors said a famine season would be upon them soon. Younger mechs and femmes were spooked, but Ratchet was irritated. The only ones whispering about famine were the ones closest to North Wind. For now it was just stupid talk, but he knew it wouldn't be long before the appearance of a new little one was added to the conversation.

He tried to find some sort of peace helping Leaping Sand with her chores but the whispers were never far and he wound up only becoming more agitated as the orn wore on. "Ratchet," Leaping Sand said with exasperation. "It will be fine so long as you don't let him get into that temper of yours." Ratchet glanced out the door where the mechling was teaching some of the others one of his games. The small herd had become a fixture outside Leaping Sand's tent the last two orns. Taking a deep breath he nodded and turned his focus back to the herbs. "I mean it," Leaping Sand said. "If you let him goad you into a fight he'll win, he always does. The mechling will be fine." His mentor was right, as usual. He couldn't win the verbal sparring matches North Wind tried to draw him into. He was too blunt, too impatient for the subtle insults and clever feints that North Wind used. But if he kept his mouth shut and his answers short there wasn't anything North Wind could do.

Still, he took the long way to the fire that evening. He stopped by to see Brushfire but her sire had already carried her to the fire. Leaping Sand had undoubtedly already pounced on the femmling so Ratchet strolled around the perimeter.

Walking along the ledge there was still some light but the riverbed below was already dark. Ratchet paused on the edge looking down in the darkness feeling the slightest flicker of something not right. He stayed there for a breem staring into the darkness but the feeling didn't return and nothing moved. A bit uneasy about the brief feeling he'd had he pushed that to the back for later consideration. Right now he needed to be focused.

Somehow, North Wind made the meager hunt take up half the night. He encouraged the hunter-warriors to tell their stories, though there was nothing remarkable about them. His loud laugh carried throughout the camp as he ignored the anxious friction rubbing between himself and Ratchet. The little ones retired early—Ratchet assumed—out of boredom when it was made clear that North Wind wasn't interested in hearing any of Whistler's story. On the way to the tent the mechling continued to cast worried looks in the direction of Suns' Blessing and Arrow's tent. The two had emerged for a short time but hadn't stayed long, disappearing back into the shadows as North Wind carried on. But he trotted after Ratchet when the healer decided he couldn't stand North Wind a moment longer.

 **oOo**

A staccato rap on the tent flap early the next morning startled Ratchet and scared the mechling awake. Leaping Sand was already gone, but Ratchet had stayed behind to keep an optic on the mechling. For the first time since they'd reached camp the mechling had tossed and turned all night before falling into a more restful recharge just before Leaping Sand rose. Ratchet made a low irritated noise that wouldn't carry to the door. The mechling looked around tiredly and Ratchet took the time to soothe him before answering.

Boulder greeted him with a fiery glare. "You're late," he hissed, cephalic fins snapping straight up. Ratchet snapped his fins down when he realized they had risen in challenge. It was too early for North Wind, his advisors; really anyone who wasn't injured. He had a moment of regret for not following Leaping Sand, but the mechling would have been frightened to wake without him.

Breathing once deep enough to stretch his tight chest he said at last, "late?" he ground out, "for _what?_ " He knew he'd chosen the wrong tone when Boulder's optics sparked. Boulder grabbed his arm and with one fluid motion dragged him out of the tent and tossed him to the ground. Breath rushed out of him and he put his temper in a stranglehold. His blunt claws cut gouges in the dusty earth with the effort. He was no longer a four color juvenile that could be tossed around. Staring at the sky he found a rhythm in breathing again. He just had to stay quiet and on the ground until Boulder thought he'd learned something. Then he'd try again to ask the mech what the ancestor-fragging _pit_ North Wind wanted.

Boulder stood over him, his optics backlit by the rising suns and furious. "You will remember your place," he hissed, fins still flared. From the tent a tiny flame shot out and a dull _thwack_ carried through the early morning. Boulder stumbled back a step in surprise. The mechling crouched in front of Ratchet with his tiny staff in hand his cloak swirling around him like a wildfire. Ratchet and Boulder both blinked in surprise. The mechling spat an angry stream of sound at Boulder but didn't press his attack. Ratchet gained his feet and put a calming hand on the mechling's shoulder. His small frame shook though if it was anger or fear, Ratchet didn't know.

"Mechling," he said gently. "I'm fine." He was still working through his surprise at the mechling's speed. The little mech turned to him, his turquoise optics bright but more anxious than angry. "It's all right," he said again a little softer. The mechling had only been a blur and he'd been silent as a hunting namurr. If he was that well trained already Ratchet couldn't imagine what a full warrior could do. Or who might catch those warriors off guard. It added a new and frightening dimension to the attack on the camp. The mechling had only been half awake when Ratchet answered the door yet he'd been at Ratchet's side within seconds of Boulder grabbing him. Drawing on his healer training he kept his hands steady. "Come, mechling, let's get something to eat." And then they were going to find Leaping Sand so he could tell her what he just saw. Something about the mechling's attack and the dead warriors at the camp was making his tanks slosh uncomfortably.

"You are supposed to be at a meeting." Boulder snapped. " _That_ can find its way to the fire." Surprise gone, he glowered at the mechling and Ratchet. Ratchet knew the mechling's strike hadn't hurt the mech. He'd taken sword strikes and continued fighting, but he was acting like the mechling had drawn energon. "You're late. Anymore disrespect to your _clan leader_ and there will be punishment." He stepped forward, pushing the mechling out of the way. The mechling stepped behind Ratchet but didn't let go of his staff and he didn't stop glaring at Boulder.

Ratchet rose to his full height, which didn't have the same effect with Boulder as it did with Venom, and gave Boulder a cool look. "Had I been _advised_ there was a meeting I would have been on time. As it is now, the clan leader will have to wait until the mechling is taken care of. I'm certain he'll understand. As leader he has a great deal of responsibility himself." He turned away. He was risking another takedown with his attitude but he didn't care. North Wind had set him up—again—to look a fool. He wasn't going to rush over to him tripping over apologies. As he walked with the mechling to the fire he expected to feel a hatchet bury itself in his back.

He was one of the last to arrive and he stood on the fringe of the loose circle next to Charging Wind. North Wind was nowhere in sight. "How's the mechling doing?" Charging Wind asked softly. Given how close she was to Ratchet she was as attuned to the tension as he was. She looked around his legs and added, "where is he?" The warriors closest to her glanced at them with mild interest and Ratchet knew whatever he said would spread through the camp like fire.

"He is either in awe of Leaping Sand or so confused he doesn't know what to do with her," he said just a softly in a non-answer. Charging Wind put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter and the nearby warriors snorted and chuckled knowingly. Leaping Sand was a force of nature and could be just as fickle. He thought the mechling was still trying to figure out who or what his mentor was. "And since Leaping Sand is out, I asked Red Spool and Threadbare to keep an optic on him. Some of the other little ones are awake though so I'm sure they'll be in a game soon enough."

Across the circle Whistler stood looking a great deal bored and tired. Normally he'd be with Ratchet and Charging Wind, but as party leader he had to be up front and readily available for North Wind's questions. Rockfall was near him but in conversation with other warriors. The old warrior didn't look as relaxed as he had during their time away from camp and Ratchet wondered what his relationship with the other warriors was like. He'd never paid over much attention to Rockfall since their paths so rarely crossed but now he was curious.

North Wind swept into the circle with as little fanfare as he was capable of. His booming voice carried across the circle of warriors and would surely carry to those beginning to gather around the common area. "Ratchet, you've done things a bit backwards haven't you? You're supposed to bring a mate and _then_ show up with a little one." He wore a cloak now the same purple as what was painted on their flags and trimmed with namurr fur. Across his back was a massive battleax. While he had a dark gold piece of cloth wrapped around his waist he'd forgone the protective fabric over his shoulders leaving his glossy dark grey frame exposed.

There was a smattering of laughter and Ratchet inclined his head once respectfully but didn't otherwise respond to the barb. Five bands of color marked North Wind's arms and a sixth color announcing him as their clan leader ran in a stripe down the middle of his face. He had acquired a scar on his chest in the same battle that had taken his sire and wore it proudly now. Ratchet had avoided serious injury by simply being faster and better skilled with a blade, but he was certain North Wind had told some of his firm supporters Ratchet had been hiding in the healer's tent.

North Wind continued trying to get a rise out of Ratchet. "Unless you and Charging Wind have something to share with the rest of us?" His optics were cold desert gold as he looked between Ratchet and Charging Wind.

At the same time Ratchet and Charging Wind both barked a laugh, clearly surprising him. It was true that Ratchet and Charging Wind were often together, had been since they were little ones, but they were too much alike to ever get along harmoniously. They fought each other as often as they offered support. Charging Wind was wild tempered and stubborn while Ratchet was also unwilling to yield and a perpetual temper. If they were mated, their first fight would be their last because they would never speak to each other again out of ridiculous pride. He'd thought everyone in the clan was aware of their constant push and pull, but it seemed North Wind hadn't paid as much attention. There was more laughter now and North Wind quickly reassessed the situation and turned away from Ratchet as if he'd had enough of tormenting the mech for now

Quick optics looked over the pile of pale hides with interest and then over the pile of packs. He turned his attention to Whistler who looked like he would rather be at breakfast than listening to North Wind carry on. "You left when Namurr was bright and now it's only half-dark, a remarkable feat, especially in a Lean Season. Did you roust a clan enroute to us?" North Wind asked.

Tucking his glossa firmly between his teeth he waited for North Wind to continue. He was hoping Charging Wind would follow his lead this one time and not antagonize North Wind. The clan leader turned to face Ratchet again before Whistler could finish his yawn and answer. Charging Wind's optics narrowed and she didn't greet the clan leader as even a warrior, just stood and watched him with anger prickling the air around her.

Charging Wind rolled her optics when North Wind turned away and across the semi-circle that had formed one of the old warriors gave her a stern glare. She didn't roll her optics again but Ratchet could see by the way she stood as soon as the warrior looked away she would. "A nice wind of good fortune caught you," North Wind said looking over the two piles. Ratchet didn't answer. He wasn't the party leader.

Whistler came up shoulder to shoulder with two older warriors and said, "Not too strong. The little one had a fire kindled; Rockfall saw the smoke as dawn came." He sounded his usual cheerful self but his small deflection of North Wind's comment about luck didn't go unnoticed by those paying attention. Ratchet saw Rockfall roll his optics skyward as if asking the Suns to save him from prideful young warriors. Ratchet hid a smile. He hadn't been close to Rockfall until they left camp and he was glad he'd gotten to know the old warrior better. There was a dry sense of humor hidden under his stoic warrior façade. North Wind pressed his lips into a thin line and gave a curt nod.

"How many did you have to fight? I see no injuries, surely a testament to your skills," North Wind said after he picked up one of the hides and nodded with unhidden appreciation at how well worked it was. The biting undercurrent to the words dashed any hope that he might be more tractable after seeing the hides.

Whistler, ignoring the sharpness of the words shrugged carelessly. "That would be your wind of good fortune. Raiders had already been through. The little one was the only one alive." Nothing in his voice gave away the unease they had all felt at the camp or how bizarre the attack was. It was yet another little thing to undermine North Wind and Ratchet resisted rubbing his brow in exasperation. All the little things Charging Wind and Whistler did to needle North Wind only made the mech more antagonistic. It hadn't mattered when Bright Star was the clan leader, but Bright Star was dead. They couldn't pick at his authority like they did. The little ones be they warriors or not looked up to them and if they grew up thinking they could be petulant towards their leader the clan would start to unravel.

North Wind canted his head to the side, sharp optics darting down at the pile of hides and packs. "Raiders came through and took nothing?"

Whistler tilted his head to the side. "Well, they had to have taken something, but the little one doesn't speak our language." The implied _how would we know what they took_ was only implied but everyone finished the thought for him. North Wind bristled slightly and glowered at Whistler who met his gaze unerringly.

"Why did you bring the little one," he asked and then tacked on, "Ratchet." Ratchet reflexively looked down but the little one was safely away with the weavers and other little ones to play with.

"He is a healer," Ratchet said, repeating the words he'd spoken at the camp. "And it was clear he had tried to save his people despite his age." Sadness took hold of his spark once more but the mechling would have a home with him, with his clan. He and Leaping Sand would help him become a healer. Again, he thought of that short demonstration with Boulder. The raiding party must have overwhelmed them with numbers to bring down warriors that skilled.

North Wind didn't look convinced. "Oh, how clear was it?" he asked in a flat voice without warmth or curiosity. Rockfall looked like he wanted to roll his optics again but was resisting. He could feel Charging Wind ready to jump in at any second and likely make the whole situation worse.

"The warriors' wounds were bandaged, somewhat, and healing herbs had been applied," Ratchet answered, nothing in his voice giving away how much it still wounded him that the mechling had tried so hard to save his people and been stopped only by his young age. The other warriors looked at him in surprise. Whistler's story clearly hadn't gone into detail on how they'd found the camp or warriors.

Probably expecting something more vague and sentimental North Wind blinked twice before he spoke again. "Then he is a noble little one. Are you certain no others remained alive?" He looked down at the dusty packs and Ratchet didn't begrudge him his skepticism, but he didn't like that North Wind was implying he was lying about what happened.

With that in mind his next words were sharper than they'd been before. "No one living, be they warrior or not, would leave their people to scavengers and rust or leave a little one alone for any length of time after an attack." He tried to think calming thoughts. If North Wind got him riled, he'd likely say something that would give their new clan leader a reason to take the little one from him. That thought alone was enough to cool his anger to something more calculating as he watched North Wind.

North Wind took the sharp words with a magnanimous nod and gestured at the packs and hides. "Of course no one of this clan would ever do something like that, but there are weak sparks that wouldn't care to see to their dead or the well-being of a little one. That you brought so much back from only one campsite after raiders had already been through, I had to make certain I wasn't missing anything." The smooth words were like flint against Ratchet's temper but he held it in check with supreme effort. He thought instead of the quiet focus the mechling had when he was learning and the way his face lit up when he got to try something new. Not pride, not North Wind, not how the clan saw him. The little one and his well-being were what mattered.

A few of the older warriors frowned at North Wind after he spoke and some of the younger warriors outright glared. Biting back a groan of frustration Ratchet stood silently waiting for North Wind to either dismiss the gathering or for him to start another round of verbal sparring. Ratchet was better with a true blade, but he struggled to keep up with North Wind when it came to words. Ratchet was too blunt and his temper too short to deal with the quick feints and jabs North Wind spoke so easily. It was the difference between wielding a battle axe and a short dagger.

"The hides I can understand being left behind if no one took the time to get a good look at them," North Wind said making a show of thinking out loud. Ratchet clamped down on his glossa again and focused on the dark canvas of North Wind's tent across from him. "But the packs puzzle me, where did you find them?" Ratchet didn't answer since North Wind hadn't looked at him. That was again the job of the party leader and Ratchet was more than happy to not talk to North Wind anymore.

Taking his cue, Whistler said, "They were buried." North Wind looked up a bit too fast when he heard Whistler's voice instead of Ratchet's but only a few noticed, most were giving Whistler bewildered looks. He was beginning to wonder if Whistler had told this part of the story at all yet. The young mech nodded, optics bright with excitement. "They were under the tents. If the little one hadn't been there we wouldn't have found them either. It seems like a pretty good idea," he added and Ratchet was pretty sure the younger mech was going to bury a few things.

"Until you forget you've buried it and walk off without it," Charging Wind deadpanned. Laughter rolled through the assembled warriors.

"I didn't say it was perfect," Whistler huffed. "Just that it was a good idea."

"Why would they bury their packs?" one of the younger warriors asked. She had only three colors on her arms so she wasn't technically allowed to speak without being called upon but no one reprimanded her.

Whistler tilted his head to the side and Ratchet saw him trying to decide something. He gave the mech a questioning glance that Whistler answered with a quick smile. So. Whistler hadn't fully divulged the end of the story. He'd only told enough to get everyone excited and then left it for this night. But, no matter Whistler's love of stories, the details needed to be shared with the warriors without embellishment. His optics caught Ratchet's again and Ratchet glared at him. Whistler knew him well enough he'd know Ratchet wanted him to just get on with telling North Wind about the camp. Glaring right back Whistler still looked undecided.

The silent battle of wills went on for a full breem before North Wind broke in with an icy, "If there is something to be said, perhaps you should say it and the clan can decide what to do with it." Whistler blinked, surprise ending the staring contest and then his dark glare returned and Ratchet could feel the curses his old friend was throwing at him.

Sighing, Whistler crossed his arms. "The story tonight will be ruined," he grumbled. The warrior closest to him, Flint, whacked the back of his head and rolled his optics. Whistler's irrepressible grin was back on his face and he said louder, "The camp wasn't right." The warriors that had been chuckling and grumbling about young warriors and Whistler specifically stopped and gave him their full attention. Although, now that Whistler had their attention he didn't seem to know how to go on. "It…there was something wrong with the attack." Charging Wind elbowed Ratchet hard in the side when Whistler floundered again for words.

Lifting his cephalic fins in a quick show of irritation, he nonetheless jumped in to save Whistler. "We call the attackers raiders for lack of knowing what they wanted." Ratchet felt every optic switch to him and Whistler gave him a chagrined and grateful look. "There was evidence the little one's camp started with beasts of burden but at some point released them. The only things we found in the tent were absolute necessities; food, water, blankets. We didn't see any evidence of there being other little ones in the camp, only him." Ratchet crossed his arms and met North Wind's stare without blinking. "While there were several warriors outside the tents, six had been killed inside. After the little one dug up a few packs we agreed they had probably been in the process of burying more when the attackers found them."

Silence stretched around them after Ratchet finished. Even North Wind looked caught off guard by Ratchet's words. The young femme who had spoken up before spoke again. "But…why waste the time burying packs?"

"I'm certain those warriors knew they weren't going to survive the night and wanted to give the little one a fighting chance at living," Rockfall said from the back. He was old enough he didn't need to be called on to speak like Ratchet and Whistler and the bold little femme. Optics turned to the old warrior but he was looking at the piles of packs. "And we might as well get on with the rest of it," he added nodding at the two Ratchet had covered.

Ratchet rolled his shoulders and glanced at Whistler who was staring at the two packs containing the jewels like they were going to change into something horrible or divine. Wide optics flicked up to Ratchet and then down at the packs. "Well, Ratchet, you found it," he said. Charging Wind laughed and Ratchet didn't resist rubbing his forehead and asking the Suns why they'd cursed him with such friends.

North Wind shook off his shock at the story and looked suspiciously between Whistler and Ratchet. "Get on with what? What did you find?"

"Buried treasure," Charging Wind said speaking out of turn. North Wind glared at her and she caught herself before she rolled her optics. Barely.

Setting aside the water skin and rations he reached down at the bottom and felt the incredibly soft hide. Pulling it out with care he heard a few murmurs of appreciation from those who saw how soft and pliable the hide was. Ratchet almost laughed. Gently pulling the hide apart he had to blink when sunset colors hit the jewels directly. The sun diamond was on top and truly did glow like a small sun in the light. The gold bands inlaid in it gave it a golden halo. The sapphires and diamonds and jet looked like a turbulent stream where they glittered mixed in with the emeralds and rubies.

Silence.

Ratchet glanced back at Charging Wind. His movement unthawed North Wind. "That…those are…they're _real_?" he stuttered unfettered surprise and astonishment on his face.

Ratchet nodded and held up the sun diamond where it twirled on the end on its thin chain. Someone sucked in a hard breath and Whistler said, "That's exactly what I said." And the spell was broken by warriors rolling their optics or glaring at the younger mech. "Show them the other thing," he said excitedly once the warriors had shaken themselves out of their shock.

Ratchet wrapped the jewels back up carefully and put them back inside the pack before opening the small one. He pulled out the rolled hide first and set it to the side. Leaping Sand was the only one who would be really interested in that. Pulling out the folded white hide he hesitated putting it on the ground. It was dusty from where he'd spread it out that first night and he didn't want to get it any dirtier.

"Here, we'll hold it," Charging Wind said coming up next to him. The map unfolded a bit at a time and from the back of the crowd someone cursed softly. Whistler still looked awestruck by the map even having seen it before. But firelight couldn't compare to the dark gold and red of mid-orn. The water looked alive where it crashed down from the mountains, the field of wildflowers twinkled and glowed, and the desert gleamed like it did when the first rays of light touched it in the morning.

"Suns above," North Wind whispered when the map was completely unfolded. "How…how did you find it?" he asked no accusation in his voice as he stared at the gleaming stones.

"It was buried with all the others," Ratchet said and the spark of an idea struck him but didn't kindle right away. He thought as a low murmur started at the front and raced to the back and warriors moved closer to see the treasure. Ratchet kept his optics on a distant point as he tried to fan the idea into a true fire. He found Rockfall keeping to the back but still looking at the map with unhidden appreciation. "Rockfall," he said, ignoring the others. "What if we were wrong?" The spark caught and unease spread through him. Rockfall tilted his head to show he was listening. "What if…they weren't burying these packs for the little one, what if they were trying to hide something?" The old warrior's optics widened in surprise and then narrowed as he thought. Silence spread through the group once more.

"You're right, there's no way they could have guaranteed the little one would live or that he wouldn't be taken as a slave," Charging Wind said.

"But they could keep this safe. Bury it with other essential supplies," Ratchet said chasing the thought but it was still too quick. It stayed flitting just at the edge of his grasp. "The jewels were at the bottom of one pack and this map was at the bottom of another."

Rockfall was next to him, though he didn't remember seeing the crowd part for the old warrior his thoughts too far away to keep track of the movement around him. "Do you remember where the two packs came from?" he asked.

"Not the big one, but this one came from the healer's tent. It was the only one he dug up," he added. Two packs with a wealth of jewels hidden in different places mixed in with other mundane packs. "But they would have taken all the packs if they found even one, why not bury these things completely separate?" The camp was beginning to give him a processorache.

In a rare show of maturity Whistler said, "Maybe they didn't have time. We have no idea what the original plan was, but if the attack came suddenly they wouldn't have had time to send someone running out into the desert to bury jewels."

"Or," Rockfall said with a severe frown on his face, "Someone they know is coming to find the jewels and wouldn't have known where to look if they were hidden in the sands somewhere." Ratchet felt a tug in his hands and looked down to see Charging Wind had started folding the map again.

He let her finish and rubbed his face while she put it back in the pack. "I was so worried about the little one I didn't think of any other reason to bury packs," he said.

Rockfall squeezed his upper arm gently one time. "You're a healer, it was right for you to be worried about the mechling. And until we made camp we didn't know what we had."

After the meeting Ratchet walked by the mechling playing a game with the others. He motioned for him to keep playing and continued on his way seeking out Red Spool It was an old habit from his younger seasons. Any time Leaping Sand was out of camp and Bright Star busy he'd sought out the old weaver just to sit. Red Spool could speak for a night straight, but there was no one else in the clan that could sit and enjoy silence like the old weaver. It was as if all those seasons of traveling with the merchants had bled off all his extra energy and what was left was content to be still and quiet.

He found Red Spool in his favorite spot, a shady place between his tent and another, a little removed from the daily clan bustle Ratchet sat down next to him with a soft huff but didn't speak. Red Spool raised an optic ridge but kept his attention on the sand brown fabric that was beginning to look like an adult cloak to match the mechling's. Neither one spoke and Ratchet stared up at the cloudless sky. His thoughts continued to circle back to the mechling's clan and his short display with his staff that morning. A full warrior could have killed Boulder before he blinked. Boulder was an old warrior and, perhaps if he'd been ready for a real battle and not a petty dominance display, the mechling might not have struck him but _by the ancestors_ the meching was fast.

Red Spool continued working as Ratchet got to his feet again. The best way to see the mechling's skill was to get him to practice and maybe he could figure out why this was making him so anxious.

He found the mechling watching a grappling match between two older younglings. He looked a bit perplexed as he watched the two try to pin each other. Ratchet kneeled next to him. "No grappling in you clan?" he asked. The mechling pointed at the two and said a long string of words that sounded as confused as he looked. Ratchet smiled but didn't pull him away at once. Younglings didn't have the endurance of adults and the match ended a breem later with both wrestlers too tired to get up. Ratchet huffed a laugh. "Come mecling, let's see what you can do with that." He nodded at the mechling's little staff. The mechling chirped and took his hand, turquoise optics bright in the afternoon light.

The sparring area was in the riverbed since there wasn't room up top for working with groups of half-grown juveniles. With the main practice happening in the cooler morning the sunny area was almost deserted now. Stormwind was working his young mech on throwing knives and thoroughly ignored Ratchet and the mechling. Ratchet didn't have much practice using reach weapons, but he'd sparred with Charging Wind enough he knew how to get inside a guard. He took two steps back from the mechling and slowly dropped into a fighting crouch. The mechling tilted his head to the side for a second before he smiled and chirped, "Dui!" Holding his staff parallel to the ground with both hands, he bowed his head once and then fell back into his own fighting stance. Ratchet smiled, despite his small size he did look quite fierce.

"All right, little saqr." He moved slow testing the mechling's reaction. The little mech huffed and in a quick flash used his staff to swat Ratchet's hand away and with the same fluid motion brought the bottom end over to smack his hip. Given the mechling's size it only stung, but it was clear he'd been taught not to hold back. As a full warrior that move would have been brutal. Surprised into laughing he stepped back. "Fair enough, little mech," He dropped back into his crouch and the mechling stepped back watching him with his tiny focused frown on his face. Ratchet still didn't move at full speed, but he moved much faster than before. The mechling moved with him and he felt another sting on his calf. The mechling didn't stop moving, always keeping in Ratchet's blind spots, varying his distances of attack, and reversing direction.

The match didn't last long. It was too hot for true sparring, but he was smiling wider than before when they came to a halt. He'd tapped the mechling a few times but his frame was still stinging in several places. A memory welled up of him and Bright Star doing something very similar when he'd been a little older than the mechling. Bright Star had been teaching him to use long daggers. At that age they'd been using sticks rolled in ash. He could remember being covered in ash but leaving his share of ash on Bright Star's frame.

Blinking the memory away he kneeled and smiled at the mechling. "Very good, little healer," he said softly. The mechling brightened and Ratchet thought again of the many times Bright Star had kneeled in front of him and told him how well he'd done. He wondered if he'd ever had a smile as bright as the mechling's. He'd never been much for smiling so probably not, but there must have been something there because Bright Star had always chuckled and put a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Let's see if Leaping Sand is back," he said standing, distancing himself from the memory. The mechling took his hand and walked next to him looking ready for some water and a nap.

Ratchet mulled over their short sparring match on the way to Leaping Sand's tent. The mechling was at least a season away from his first color but he wielded his little staff like one of two colors. The warriors they had found at the camp would have been even more skilled. Even as strangers in the desert, that sort of skill would have dissuaded a raiding party. They would have lost a warrior in the first assault and realized their mistake. Yet _someone_ had caught them off guard. And whoever they were, they had been swift enough to not lose one of their own in the attack.

Rubbing his optics with his palms he pushed the clan to the back of his mind to ponder. The orn was only half over and he was already getting a processor ache. The mechling kept ahead of him, a little skip in his step as he navigated the camp. He didn't sing any of his little songs and didn't stray more than a few steps from Ratchet but he looked more comfortable.

Leaping Sand had the flap tied back and was looking over Blue Dawn's hand when they arrived. The mechling chirruped a little greeting before hopping past the threshold. "I meant to ask what trouble you found," Ratchet said.

Blue Dawn grimaced. "Scorpion sting. Wasn't too bad when it happened but by sunset I could hardly move my arm." He ducked his head when Leaping Sand glowered at him. Ratchet gave him a pointed look. It was well known around the clan that Blue Dawn was sensitive to the stings and bites of desert creatures and yet anytime he was hurt he acted surprised that his limbs swelled to twice their size and refused to work. Blue Dawn sighed, "I know."

"If you knew you would come when you were stung. But you don't so no, I don't think you know," Leaping Sand said dabbing a paste on two of Blue Dawn's fingers. The mechling watched her work in quiet fascination.

"We'll go out early tomorrow, mechling, and we'll learn more plants," Ratchet said taking some of the heat off Blue Dawn. The little mech looked at him when Ratchet spoke but there was no comprehension on his face. "And we can start with our lessons again," he added. Leaping Sand would enjoy that. She was one of the few in their clan that spoke the trade language and a little of the other clans' languages.

She started wrapping Blue Dawn's hand in a loose bandage to protect the wound from dirt and water. "Lessons?" she asked not taking her optics off her work.

"On the way back we started teaching each other words," Ratchet said.

Leaping Sand smiled. "That does sound like fun. I hope you can get up before the suns rise, you've been nothing but lazy the last few orns."

That evening, moving quick and silent, Ratchet went by the piles of packs and found the rolled hide with the healing tools and disappeared as little more than whisper. There was light in North Wind's tent but he didn't hear the mech. He returned to Leaping Sand's tent taking the way around the fire. He could hear Whistler warming up his story and the rest of the camp was deserted. Everyone was ready to finally hear the end of the story now that the warriors had passed on what they'd seen that morning.

Leaping Sand was in the tent showing the mechling how to strip leaves from thorny stems. "And where have you been skulking about?" she asked without looking up or stopping what she was doing.

"I do not 'skulk'," he said. "I know you have no use for jewels, but there is one thing in those packs no one else will have an interest in," Ratchet said as she stretched her arms over her head and motioned for the mechling to finish his stem and stop. Ratchet watched his quick fingers navigate the stem only getting pricked a few times. "Do you think he's older than he looks?" he asked.

"I had considered it when I saw his knife and staff, but wasn't sure since his clan is unknown to us," Leaping Sand said. "But he does seem to be a bit older. Although," she said with a soft sigh, "Mechlings don't stay young long if they want to be healers." In a rare show of affection she reached over and gave Ratchet's hand a gentle squeeze. He nodded and returned the squeeze. One couldn't stay blissfully innocent when warriors came in after a battle with limbs partially severed by battle axes or their abdere torn open by swords. There was too much energon in healing for one to be young. Ratchet was still constantly mistaken for a more experienced warrior by other clans. He wasn't brash and loud like Charging Wind and he didn't laugh or boast like Whistler. He was quiet and watchful as he'd learned to be as he watched over the wounded while his exhausted mentor recharged.

It didn't take long to store the plants. The mechling yawned wide and his optics drooped. Wriggling out of his poncho he found his favorite blanket and snuggled down. Ratchet rubbed the top of his head and handed the small rolled hide to his mentor. No one had bothered asking about it after they'd seen the jewels. "Unroll it on a blanket," he said. She gave him a curious look but sat down.

The mechling caught her movement and sat up to see what she was doing. Ratchet sat near the mechling and absently stroked his thumb over his audio. Leaping Sand unrolled the hide and took a sharp breath. "Suns above," she said softly as the metal tools gleamed in the diffused light. Much like Ratchet had done, she touched the moonstone handles and the small flecks of jewels pressed into them as if they were more valuable than the sun diamond.

The mechling said a soft word and spark deep sadness darkened his features. Ratchet's spark gave a hard twist itself when he saw the mechling's face. And in that moment he felt more like a scavenger than a fierce saqr. Leaping Sand looked up as well and she crooned softly reaching for the mechling.

Picking him up in his blanket cocoon she wrapped her arms around him and hummed a soft song she'd used an age ago when Ratchet was young and didn't want to recharge. The memory was unexpected. He'd forgotten she used to hold him like that and sing to him. The mechling snuggled close to her spark but his optics stayed dark with sorrow. Ratchet wished again he had a way to speak to the mechling. It was unfairness beyond measure that the little one had to suffer surrounded by mechs and femmes and yet utterly alone. The mechling's optics started to shut more frequently and Ratchet hoped Leaping Sand's song lulled him to happier dreams. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and he didn't stir. Ratchet reached out and rolled the hide, hiding the bright metal.

 **oOo**

The early morning birds were joined by late risers as Ratchet showed the mechling how to strip thorns off a plant called Arrowhead for its arrow shaped thorns. The mechling hadn't been keen on the early morning hike to the plants until he'd figured out why they were out in the desert. He still looked a little tired but he watched everything Ratchet did with rapt interest.

Ratchet himself could hardly stop yawning. His recharge had been almost as fitful as the mechling's. The dead clan had plagued his dreams and even now in the morning light he could not shake their shadows from his mind. There was the possibility that the mechling was the exception, the warrior that happened once a generation that clans told stories about for generations. But even then, the mechling had to have been trained by someone who knew what they were doing. That sort of skill didn't develop in dreams, it was passed down from warrior to warrior in sparring sessions. All the hard lessons learned and tricks discovered in real combat were added in ensuring each generation of warriors was stronger, more skilled, than the one before. It was how clans stayed strong.

He kept most of his focus on the mechling trying his hand at ridding the woody stem of thorns but his mind continued to churn over the clan. The mechling finished removing the thorns and looked up hopefully. Ratchet smiled. "Very good, little healer," he said. His mind snagged on the word healer and while he dropped the arrowhead into his basket he tried to chase whatever had caught his mind.

"Healer," he repeated softly. He stopped and stared at the sky. The idea there and fighting its way to the surface but it was still jumbled. He looked at the mechling who was watching Leaping Sand dig for roots. "Healer…the little one is a healer too. So was…" Closing his optics he pictured the dead clan once more. The thread holding him to the thought was fragile and if he shifted his focus it would snap.

A healer with a little one with him and warriors who knew an attack was coming. They _had_ to have known the attack was coming, why else bury the packs? So they had known they couldn't win. The healer couldn't accept that a little one would die at anymech's hands or that one would be sold into a lifetime of slavery. But it would be a slow death to send the mechling out into the sands. He would have to be hidden at camp. He would have to hide him well though, the raiders would have tossed the tents top to bottom. Even Ratchet had been ready to go through the energon stained blankets.

The thread pulled taut. A flash of the adult mech leaning against the tent wall, a dagger in hand. If someone had slit his throat, why would they rest him carefully against the side of the tent? They would have let him fall and bleed on the ground. He tried to remember how the other mechs and femmes had fallen. The ones outside he hadn't paid much attention to the sun and scavengers halfway through their work. The two Charging Wind had found though. They'd looked like they were recharging, a single clean strike through their sparks. "They weren't attacked," Ratchet said still staring into memory. "There wasn't an attack, it was suicide."

"Ratchet?" Leaping Sand's voice pulled him back. The suns were rising higher and the day was warming but Ratchet's frame now felt too cold. Leaping Sand watched him with concern. "Ratchet, what are you talking about?" Her rough fingers touched his cheek and his forehead checking for fever.

Feeling sick and chilled Ratchet said, "The clan, the mechling's clan. It wasn't an attack, it was suicide," he said his voice soft as the wind whistled around them. Leaping Sand blinked half a dozen times. "It's the only thing that makes any fragging sense," he said. "The healer, I found him sitting against the wall of his tent, a knife in hand, his throat cut. If it had been a raider that killed him they wouldn't have taken the time to prop him up. He sat down as he bled or he was already sitting when he did it. And there were two others in their tent with a single strike through their sparks. They didn't have any other injuries. They were lying close enough to touch and each holding a dagger." He resisted the urge to pace since he was surrounded by thorny plants but he shifted his weight back and forth anxiously.

"Ratchet," Leaping Sand said and trailed off. "I wasn't there," she said at last. "Speak to the others who were and see if they agree." She looked like she wanted to pace as well but looked down at the woody plants with their thorns gleaming jade in the morning sun. "If they agree…that's something the others should know as well." It sounded like each of those words was pulled from her and she scowled once they were out. "Especially if we're going to trade what was found. If someone recognizes the hides or, suns save us, the jewels they might think we're the ones who killed them. It could start a war and we don't have the numbers or allies for such things."

Taking a deep breath Ratchet nodded and looked at the mechling who watched them curiously. What Ratchet couldn't fathom was why anymech would leave a mechling alone.

They returned to camp when the suns were moving off their peak. The mechling caught sight of his small band of playmates and looked at Ratchet with hope all over his face. Despite his dark thoughts, Ratchet smiled. "Go play, mechling," he said nodding at the others waiting for their playmate. With a small yip the mechling took off and the whole herd went tearing around the camp as soon as he joined them.

Dropping off his basket with Leaping Sand he set off to find Whistler, Charging Wind, and Rockfall to present his uncomfortable theory. Whistler was still at the fire listening to Deluge berate Blue Dawn about the scorpion sting. Any other time Ratchet would have found it as amusing as Whistler, but he didn't smile this orn. "Do you know where Rockfall and Charging Wind are?" he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. Blue Dawn was the number one offender for spreading gossip in the clan.

Whistler yawned and stood up. "Pretty sure Charging Wind is putting some of the three colors on their afts and I haven't seen Rockfall this morning. Might be with some of the hunter-warriors though." He strolled next to Ratchet and when they were far enough from Blue Dawn he said, "What's got you so tense?"

"I…we need to talk about the mechling's campsite," Ratchet said. Whistler nodded and yawned again but his optics were bright and alert. He kept looking at Ratchet out the corner of his optic but had figured out it wasn't something Ratchet was going to walk and talk about.

They stopped by the hunter-warriors' tents and did find Rockfall sitting with some of them in the shade while they whittled new arrow shafts. The old mech laughed when Whistler said they were going to save the three colors from Charging Wind and followed them without further questions.

On their way down the path they heard the distinctive _thwack_ of a staff meeting its target. Whistler grimaced. "I was only joking when I said we were going to save them, but now I think we might actually be saving them." Rockfall snorted but glanced at Ratchet. Ratchet was trying very hard to look nonchalant but he had a feeling no one believed the act. He was praying the other three would tell him the theory was ridiculous and he could go back to Leaping Sand and tell her he just hadn't recharged enough. But now that he'd slotted his theory in with everything about the camp that didn't make sense he was sick and scared that the others would agree.

Charging Wind used her staff to sweep the feet out from under two of the three colors and on the backswing disarmed the one behind her. The warriors of four colors, who had been dealt the same blows when they were three colors, tried not to laugh. "Charging Wind, let's give your targets—I mean— _students_ a break," Whistler called. Charging Wind whirled her staff fast enough it whistled and the three colors dragged themselves to the shady overhang.

Ratchet glanced up at the ledge where the clan was camped and then led the group back toward the path and then past it until they were at another shady place. "Are you going to tell us now why you look like you've stolen Boulder's hatchets?" Charging Wind asked leaning on her staff. Rockfall lifted his optic ridges, silently telling him to speak.

Looking back the way they came Ratchet said, "The mechling's camp. I don't think they were attacked. I think they did it themselves." Silence stretched out. The wind rattled a few dry plants and lifted their cloaks but otherwise they were still and silent.

"You think they all committed suicide?" Rockfall said evenly, his words like stones thrown in a still pond. Ratchet nodded once and looked up at the blue ribbon of sky above the canyons.

"What?" Charging Wind said at last. "How? Why?"

Squeezing his optics shut for a few seconds Ratchet fully committed himself to the theory and looked at the other three. "Do you remember in the tent where we found the mechling, there was an adult against the left wall," he said to Charging Wind. She frowned but her optics flickered as she thought back.

She nodded once sharply. "Yes, his throat was cut. Startled me at first because it looked like he was…sitting," her optics went distant for a few seconds as she thought and then she swore and looked at Ratchet with optics blazing both with disbelief and a hint of fear. Her cephalic fins rose a bit making her look a little bigger, a little fiercer. "He had a knife in his hand."

"Yes, and the first bodies you found. Each with only a single strike through the spark, laid out like they were recharging. I only glanced at the ones outside, I don't remember what they looked like," Ratchet said.

"No bolts," Whistler added. "I said that to you, didn't I? That Rockfall and I hadn't found any bolts. There weren't even holes in the hides," he added flinching in surprise.

Rockfall muttered a curse as he thought back to the camp as well. "But why? Why stage an attack?" He rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms, a scowl firm on his face.

"When we were talking about the jewels you said they might have buried them at the camp because someone they knew would come looking for them," Ratchet said. "What better way to hide jewels than with a staged attack by raiders."

Charging Wind hissed low and fierce. "It's one thing to _stage_ an attack, you're saying they actually cut their own throats, Ratchet! That's insanity." She waved a hand in the direction of their clan. "They left a mechling in the desert _alone_ with, it seems, only the _hope_ that their friends would find the camp before he starved. You said yourself the bodies had been left for a septorn or more."

Ratchet leaned back against the cooler stone. "This doesn't have to be only about the jewels or only about the mechling," he said. "It can be about both. You weren't with me when he changed," he added softly as he remembered none of them had returned to that tent with him. "Those clothes he was wearing that were covered in energon; after he changed he showed me how he'd gotten so much energon on him. At some point he was playing dead, lying in the pool of that mech's energon."

Charging Wind's optics darted between Ratchet and the direction of their clan as the full scope of that horror settled over her. "It's insanity, Ratchet," she said softly. "No one thinks like that." Whistler looked a little pale as well and nodded in agreement. But neither one had an argument forthcoming.

Rockfall tapped his fingers against his arm. "It's the only thing that makes that camp make sense," he said after a few seconds. "The mechs still in their tents but with energon on their blades. The buried packs took preparation and time. It doesn't make any sense that we didn't see any bolts or holes in the hides, ancestors, there weren't even scorch marks around the fire pit. It was an attack without any attackers."

"I was hoping you would have a different theory," Ratchet said softly.

Rockfall sighed and looked in the direction of camp. "The others need to know as well. It might change how we trade this season."

"That's what Leaping Sand said," Ratchet said staring at the opposite wall.

"Well," Whistler said with a faint tremor in his voice, "we'd better do that before North Wind decides you're out here plotting a civil war." Ratchet glared at him and Rockfall rolled his optics. Charging Wind knocked him solidly on his aft with her staff.

Ratchet was not looking forward to the upcoming conversation. This would be the longest conversation he'd had with North Wind…ever. Sighing, he trudged up the path all the while reminding himself that the other three were with him and could pull him out of trouble if North Wind proved too much. Their small group got a few odd looks but since they were moving in the direction of North Wind's tent no one stopped to ask what they were doing.

They found North Wind in the shade of his tent surrounded by his advisors; Venom, Boulder, and Stormwind. None of them offered the respect of standing, even when they saw Rockfall. Grinding his teeth, Ratchet stuffed his temper as far down as it would go. "The camp we found, I don't think it was attacked. I think the warriors committed suicide." He saw no reason for formality or small talk since North Wind seemed to be in one of his aggravating moods. The four stared at him in silence. Ratchet stared back. He was willing to leave and return to his orn. The clan leader had been informed, his task was finished.

North Wind thawed first and shrugged carelessly. "They're still dead. It hardly matters." Out the corner of his optic Ratchet saw Rockfall cross his arms but he didn't say anything. Ratchet spent another second debating if he had the patience to spell out _why_ that mattered and decided he didn't.

"I'll leave you to your advisors," Ratchet said dryly seeing the dawning alarm on both Boulder's and Stormwind's faces. Stormwind may have pretended to ignore him and mechling during their brief spar, but the old warrior had to have seen some of the match. Stormwind shot him a vicious glare but Ratchet was already turning away.

"Stormwind and Boulder seemed a bit more alarmed than necessary," Rockfall said once they were away from the tent.

Ratchet nodded, a frown on his face. "Boulder got a solid hit from the mechling this morning when he threw me to the ground. Stormwind was working with his mechling when I worked with the little one this morning." He said, "He's quite skilled for how young he is. I was going to ask your opinion on him, Charging Wind. I'm no good with reach weapons and I think he'd enjoy a match with another staff warrior."

A bright smile lit Charging Wind's face. "Of course, I wanted to see if he has trained with his staff and knife." The uncomfortable anxious feeling returned to Ratchet's tanks.

"He's trained," he said softly. "He is _well_ trained." The other three caught on to his voice and Rockfall raised his optics ridges in his silent way of asking for explanation. "I'm frightened of what could have driven those warriors to choose that path given the mechling's skill. They could have been a fearsome force against any clan out here." They walked in silence until Charging Wind looked up at the sky.

"Well, you said yourself," she said not feigning optimism, her voice quiet and dark. "You're no good with reach weapons. Let's have a look at this skill and then we'll decide if we should be awake all night fretting."

Back down in the practice area Charging Wind beckoned the mechling to follow her a few steps away from the others. "All right, I've heard impressive things," Charging Wind said, gesturing for the mechling to stand opposite of her. She twirled her own staff and the mechling chirped a string of words as he got into position. As he did with Ratchet, he held his staff parallel to the ground and bowed his head before he took a fighting stance.

Charging Wind could move as fast and hard as her name implied, but—like Ratchet—her first strike was slow, almost lazy. Ratchet didn't hide his smile when the mechling huffed and knocked Charging Wind's attack aside and jabbed her knee She made a muffled "oomph" and staggered gracelessly but didn't go down. The mechling darted to her other side and tried the same trick but Charging Wind blocked him regaining her balance. Undeterred, he stayed on the move trying to find a hole in her defense. Surprise lifted her fins but a delighted smile broke out across her face. She still held back considerably, but she made the mechling work for his hits.

Charging Wind laughed as she blocked and retaliated. "You're right, Ratchet, the little thing must have been trained by sand demons." She blocked again and tried to get him on the back swing. The mechling rolled under the strike and popped up inside her guard and smacked her across the abdomen. Then he threaded his staff between her feet and tried to trip her. His staff was too short for it to work, but Charging Wind laughed again before ending the match. After the mechling repeated his little bow she scooped him up and nuzzled his cheek. "I'll bet you're not supposed to be using that clever trick," she said setting him down. "Which means you watched and learned." He looked ready for a nap but lifted his chin and puffed up his chest and planted the butt of his staff on the ground.

While Charging Wind made a grab for him, Whistler said, "Maybe if you're nice hell teach you. I do see why you're concerned Ratchet," he added in a quieter voice." He's not a match for Charging Wind, but a few more seasons? If those warriors were that skilled it's hard to believe they were pushed to that extreme."

"And yet our optics didn't lie," Rockfall said, a troubled frown on his face. "And I wonder if there are more out there. Skills such as that must come from a proud clan. We'll have to be very careful with our trading this season and let it be known how we came upon the camp." The mechling ran to hide behind Ratchet's leg giggling as Charging Wind made another half-sparked swipe for him. With his hood pushed back the glyphs patterned on his head gleamed like pearls in the suns.

Stroking the top of his head Ratchet said, "Come mechling, two matches in one orn, you must be ready for a nap." The mechling reached up and took his hand looking twice as tired now that his game with Charging Wind was over.

Rockfall smiled at the little mech but his optics remained troubled. "They gave up everything for him. He must be special to them, somehow."

 **oOo**

As the suns began their descent, a call rippled through the camp for the warriors to gather. It was an open call so anyone done with their chores or looking for gossip was also welcome. Ratchet walked alone between tents looking to arrive exactly on time so he could stand in the back. Part of that was because the mechling was still sprawled out on his bedroll and he didn't want to be gone long. But he also didn't want to see North Wind any longer than necessary.

Shadows pooled around the tents like a spreading stain as the suns blazed red and gilded the clouds gold. A prickle ran over his exoform when he passed a tent near the fringe of camp and he cast a sharp glance at the darkness. Baskets and coiled rope blurred together in the shadows and at a glance were menacing. He blinked and forced his optics to see the things that were there instead of what his imagination conjured. The unease didn't leave him even when he left the tents and fell in step with Blue Dawn, who was sneaking away from the fire to see what was happening.

They were the last to join the circle. North Wind paced slowly back and forth in the center, once again wearing his clan leader finery. He kept them waiting another breem, as if his thoughts had left him blind to the crowd, before he stopped and straightened. "Some disturbing news was brought to me this morning. News that will affect our clan, possibly our trade," he said with slow measured words so there would be no mistaking what he said. That sent a small ripple through the assembly. After an orn of famine talk several in the clan were on the knife's edge of anxiety. Ratchet slicked his fins back and narrowed his optics in annoyance, right as North Wind turned to look at him. "Ratchet, perhaps you are the one best suited to explain," he said not breaking optic contact. Every optic turned to him almost at once and Ratchet forgot about the creeping feeling he'd had by the tents.

On the other side of the circle he saw a distinctive set of fins flip up and snap back. Before Charging Wind could say something to get North Wind riled, Ratchet said, "Be believe the mechling's clan committed suicide." He kept his voice flat his find down with obvious irritation. Bewildered silence followed his statement. The younger warriors continued looking perplexed but the older warriors' surprise soon shifted to wariness. Ratchet didn't speak further and didn't look away from North Wind.

"It's madness, why?" Snake Charm asked. "Why kill yourself when you can fight an enemy." Ratchet saw the same reaction on several other faces young faces. He would have been among them had someone else presented the theory. Even now he was having a hard time wrapping his processor around it. It went against everything they were as warriors. They were no good to anyone dead. Their strength was what kept their clan alive. To turn their knives on themselves was to give up _everything_.

On the other side of the circle, keeping to the shadows as much as Ratchet, Arrow lifted his head. "They thought they had an enemy they couldn't fight. They still had something to protect though. So they could die fighting a losing battle and lose what they were protecting or they could protect what they had with them." Not even the wind interrupted his quiet voice. Arrow was only a handful of seasons older that Ratchet but he was steady as the stone under their feet.

"The muddied trail," Charging Wind said. "They released their beasts before they made their camp, Suns only know what else they shed. Perhaps others in the group broke off before they made camp that last time. And finally, they staged an attack. Whoever was after them will be scouring the desert to find the supposed raiders."

Snake Charm still looked a little frightened. "That's still…Charging Wind, that's not even _sane_. No one in their right mind thinks like that." Her shimmering optics pale and darting from Charging Wind to Arrow.

Ratchet tilted his head to the side and answered in a voice as soft as Arrow's. "Yes we do. You swore on the Suns and Saqr that you would give your spark to protect this clan. The means may be different, but the purpose was the same." He looked in the direction of the commons where the mechling was with the weavers watching them put the finishing touches on Ratchet's cloak. "They must have sworn something similar and when the time came to protect, they did what they had to do. He's alive and whoever they were trying to keep the jewels away from obviously doesn't have them. They died well."

Disbelieving silence met his words until Leaping Sand's voice came from his right startling him enough his fins flicked. He'd thought she'd skipped this meeting. "Well said, Ratchet. I would do whatever I could to keep a little one safe," she said louder. "And I know if it was one like Moon Song there's not one of you standing here that wouldn't give your lives for that spark. It's why you were chosen to walk the path of warriors. It has never been an easy or clear path to walk, but so long as your sparks are true, you will always find the right course."

"That's why he's not a weeping mess," Whistler said quietly. "I thought he was in shock at first, but if this was planned, they would have explained to him the best they could what was going to happen."

"He still tried to save them," Ratchet said, a new vicious pang in his spark. Because there were no words anymech could speak that could make a little one understand what had been done at the camp. Even fully fledged warriors were struggling with the idea.

Leaping Sand sighed softly, "He is a healer. It would go against his very spark to not at least try to help." Ratchet wondered if the warriors had been conscious when the mechling tried to save them. He hoped they weren't. It nearly destroyed his spark just thinking about it, he would not wish such pain on anyone.

 **oOo**

Ducking out of the tent Ratchet stretched his shoulders and shook life into his frame. The mechling hadn't had any nightmares, but Ratchet's recharge had been plagued with them. Rubbing his optics he started walking toward the fire.

"Ratchet," one of the hunter-warriors called seeing him pass between tents. He backed up a step and lifted his optic ridge in question. "North Wind has an announcement, he wants _everyone_ present." Ratchet nodded and waited to roll his optics until he turned away from the mech.

Walking back to the tent he ducked in and was glad to see Leaping Sand hadn't slipped out in the short time he'd been gone. "North Wind has something to say, he wants you there." The mechling opened one optic when he heard Ratchet's voice but yawned and snuggled down into his blanket a bit more. Ratchet thought he had the right idea. After this announcement he might come back as well and see if he could get in a joor of recharge.

Leaping Sand took one look at him and snorted as if she could read his thoughts. She probably could. Sometimes she knew what he was thinking before he knew it himself. It made getting into mischief when he was younger exceedingly difficult, but with Whistler and Charging Wind he'd still managed on occasion. "Well, let's see what our leader wants." She stood and glanced at the mechling who was already deep in recharge. "He'll be all right for a bit. He knows the camp well enough to find us."

Charging Wind and Whistler found them before they were halfway to North Wind's tent. Whistler still looked like he was in recharge but Charging Wind looked mostly awake. "You think he'll notice the mechling's not with you?" Charging Wind asked in greeting. He looked down at where the mechling usually was when he was up and about and shrugged. The mechling didn't speak their language so it didn't matter if he was there or not. "But if he's still recharging, there's no reason to wake him. A lot of the little ones will be absent. Let's stand in the back, that way if he starts to go off on a tangent we can sneak back and join them." She rubbed her optics, not as awake as she was pretending to be. Leaping Sand made an exasperated sound and gave Charging Wind a half-sparked glare. Charging Wind gave her an innocent look. "What? As if you weren't planning to slip out as soon as he did a headcount so you can start on your collecting and preparing."

Leaping Sand swatted her leg. "Not a word of that to anyone," she said and lengthened her stride to catch up to Deluge. Ratchet and Charging Wind snorted. Whistler was still trying to recharge on his feet and didn't add anything to the conversation.

Charging Wind slid a step closer to him and kept her voice low. "Rockfall did _advise_ us to keep quiet this orn. I don't know why, I left the fire early last night and Whistler and I haven't had a moment's peace so I don't know what's happening." Ratchet almost told her she was the always rolling her optics and speaking out of turn, but nodded instead saving that argument for another time. The other warriors moved through the camp around them like wraiths but the others were a bit louder, their recharge heavy voices a low murmur as their feet crunched over the hard ground.

They reached North Wind's tent close to last and found they would be in the back. Leaping Sand had also, miraculously, come in near the end as well and was also forced to stand in the back in the shadows where she was difficult to see. Ratchet stared at her until his mentor looked his way and winked. Charging Wind stifled a giggled and Ratchet sighed. But if Leaping Sand was truly skipping out of the meeting early he would be the ever faithful student and follow in her footsteps. Straight back to his bedroll.

North Wind's tent was much more spacious than any of the others so he could hold meetings such as these with all the warriors, but it was not enough for the whole clan to fit. Meetings like this were usually held in the common area. Whistler dropped his head to Ratchet's shoulder and tried to find his way back to recharge while Charging Wind stood on Ratchet's other side with her arms crossed and irritation written plainly on her face. Unlike the sparse furnishings in Leaping Sand's tent, North Wind had many thick furs and blankets on the floor to keep out the lingering chill. After the meeting they'd be rolled up and tucked against the sides of the tent.

A few tapestries hung on the walls, those had been Bright Stars and Ratchet was glad North Wind had left them up. Ratchet couldn't imagine what the tent would look like without them. It would be the final severance of Bright Star's life in the clan. They were geometric designs instead of landscapes like Ratchet had, but they were pretty in their way. The dark backgrounds with bright threads of yellow, blue, green, and pink made the tent seem brighter. But mixed in with Bright Star's old tapestries were new things from North Wind. A namurr's skull, jaws gaping showing the long canines was hung on the left wall. On the right was the pelt stretched out to showcase how big the animal had been.

Ratchet remembered the orn North Wind had brought the corpse to the clan. It had been the talk all around the fire for nearly a kel while North Wind prepared it for showing off. North Wind had boasted no other warrior in the clan could bring down an animal as big as the one he had. Ratchet was certain the jab had been directed at him, but he'd been more concerned with making certain the warrior who took a strike from the namurr's claws didn't get a rust infection. Once it was obvious Ratchet wasn't going to rise to the challenge the conversation about the animal had dropped off and the clan had gone back to their usual gossip.

The few murmured conversations that had been going stopped when North Wind stepped up on a small stool he'd gotten for just that reason. Since he was the same size as most to the warriors he liked to be elevated, he said, so everyone could see him. And now with everyone's optics on him he began the meeting. "Those who were not present when Whistler's party returned have by now all heard the story of what happened." Whistler lifted his head a fraction when his name was called but when it wasn't followed by anything worthwhile he went back to dozing on Ratchet's shoulder. If he hadn't been pressed in so close he would've moved and let the mech crash to the ground.

North Wind continued without looking in Ratchet's direction. "I heard many concerns last night about not only the dead clan, but whatever forces were after them to drive them to such extreme measures." Ratchet narrowed his optics. He had assumed the meeting would be about what to do with the incredible map and the jewels, not the dead clan which by association was about his mechling. North Wind clasped his hands behind his back and said. "The most salient point was brought to me by—"

"Stormwind," Charging Wind muttered.

"—Stormwind," North Wind said half a breath later. Ratchet elbowed Charging Wind first and then Whistler when his chest shook with laughter. A few looked their way but Ratchet kept his focus on North Wind looking at everyone but him. "If the warriors of this clan did indeed kill themselves and bury their valuables they must have done so with the belief that others would follow." North Wind shrugged as if that was of little concern. "But, these outlanders will soon learn there are few fair rules in the desert. Though what Stormwind and others find more concerning than any jewels taken is the foundling."

Ratchet felt his cephalic fins start to rise, the tension in his body waking Whistler completely. Charging Wind dug her blunt claws into his wrist, for once trying to wrangle him instead of the other way around. Ratchet didn't relax, but he didn't press his threat. Everyone around him knew North Wind needed to tread carefully.

North Wind glanced at him, hard not to since Ratchet's stare had gone from passive interest to hostile in a breath. "If there are indeed kin looking for the mechling, we stand to be accused of taking a little one from their clan."

Ratchet's fins rose further and Whistler grabbed his other wrist, his claws sharper. Red Spool's distinctive head turned in his direction as did several others. The younger warriors looked over their shoulders with twitchy nervous tension. Older warriors who had seen their share of fights within the clan remained calm but coiled and ready to pounce on Ratchet if he moved the wrong way.

Now North Wind faced him as he hadn't before. "That misunderstanding could easily spiral into an accusation of slave trading." Cold gold optics stared straight at Ratchet as he continued, "After a long discussion with the most senior warriors we have come to the uneasy decision it would be best to send the mechling and a warrior back to the camp where he was taken to wait for his kin."

Ratchet growled but didn't leap for the clan leader. If North Wind had said they were to send the mechling into the desert alone he would have fought every warrior in the clan. But since he was allowed to accompany the young mech the violence in his spark loosened its hold. Now it was Charging Wind and Whistler that Ratchet was holding back as they vibrated with anger.

"That is a clever form of exile," Leaping Sand said in a flat voice. "I do wonder which of our dear warriors you will volunteer for such a noble task." Tension whipped through the assembled, many more now looking at Ratchet. Those closest to North Wind looked on impassively while others turned angry glares to North Wind.

"He has no need to volunteer any," Ratchet said. "I have already claimed guardianship over the mechling, he is mine to take care of." Silence stretched for a long breath before Leaping Sand, Charging Wind, and Whistler all hissed venomously. Ratchet let the sound wash past him. Leaping Sand was right about the exile. North Wind had finally found a way to get rid of Ratchet with something more lasting than a raiding party. What angered him was that North Wind would sacrifice the mechling to make sure Ratchet died in the sands. But that wasn't going to happen. He would not let the mechling die. Not after the sacrifices his clan had made, not after what he had survived. He would find the mechling's kin, even if it took him to his dying breath.

"You will kill your healer for petty spite," Leaping Sand hissed. Fury unlike Ratchet had ever seen in her optics. Deluge hand a firm grip on her arm and was hissing something in her audio but his mentor was beyond listening to reason.

"I was unaware you were that faithless in me," Ratchet said. That snapped Leaping Sand out of her rage faster than a bucket of cold water. She stared at him for two breaths in bewildered shock before she realized what he'd done. Further argument against him going would weaken his status as a warrior, something North Wind had been trying to do since they'd gotten their fifth color. Charging Wind's claws suddenly dug into his wrist deep enough to draw energon and the rage that had been focused on North Wind was suddenly aimed at him. Ratchet paid no attention to it as he stared down North Wind who was schooled enough he managed to look grim instead of pleased as Ratchet and everyone else in the room knew he must be feeling.

Ratchet lifted his chin and looked at the namurr pelt on the wall. "When I was hunting with Bright Star we saw one bigger than that," he said into the silence that had fallen. "Bright Star chose not to kill it." With a firm grip on Whistler and Charging Wind he left the tent.

Charging Wind shook him off as soon as they were past the main group. "Have you lost your mind?" she hissed optics ablaze with rage. Any close enough to hear shuffled a bit closer to the tent entrance. Ratchet kept walking until they were by the piles of hides and packs.

"Don't look down," Ratchet said instead. A few were watching them waiting to see if one of them would fly into a rage and either fight each other or try to charge back into the tent. Charging Wind jerked her head back but before she could say anything Ratchet dropped down. And dug into the pack with the bejeweled map. Having spent as much time plotting trouble as they had when they were younger, Charging Wind instead stared at where Ratchet had been and continued to yell at him. Whistler stood closer to her blocking him completely from view. Ratchet found the soft hide and then got into the other pack and dug down to get the jewels.

"What are you doing," Charging Wind said still sounding plenty angry but her optics were flicking down and at the quiet tents nearby.

Ratchet found the jewels and stood, keeping his cloak over his shoulder so his hand was hidden. "Let's have this discussion somewhere more private," he said grabbing her with his free hand and dragging her forward. Whistler stalked after them still keeping up all appearances of being angry, at least from the back. His face was alive with curiosity that was morphing into a delightedly evil kind of mischief.

Ducking into Leaping Sand's tent he startled the mechling who was looking through the little jars again. He smiled happily and pointed at the jar holding rust leaf. "Piu." Ratchet couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. The mechling did take notice of Charging Wind's vibrating anger and Whistler's malicious glee. He came over to Ratchet and hugged his leg.

"They're not mad at you, mechling," he murmured soothingly. "Now," he said looking up at the other two warriors. "North Wind wants us to find his kin? Then we Suns damned will find his kin." He held up the folded map. "This is what got them this far, this is what will get us back to the beginning." Charging Wind's anger cooled a bit more and she looked from Ratchet down to the mechling clinging to his leg. "If you sincerely thought I was going to walk into the desert to die I'll hit you," Ratchet said.

Charging Wind gave him a feral grin and flung her arms around him. "This will be the adventure of a generation," she said. "Are we leaving now?"

"We?" Ratchet echoed. "This still has a very good chance of both of us dying."

"Well those chances are slightly less if you've got two other warriors with you," Whistler said. Ratchet looked at their faces alive now with the promise of an adventure never undertaken by any in the clan and didn't waste his breath arguing.

Rubbing his face Ratchet looked down at the mechling. "Tomorrow at first light we leave. This orn we need to get what supplies we can. Do your best to mix up and repack those packs so they won't know until later that these things are missing." There wasn't much they could take. Ratchet certainly didn't want to drag a sledge behind him the whole way through the desert and the Iron Mountains. So they would be limited to what they could carry on their backs. Whistler and Charging Wind nodded and turned to leave. "You're still mad at me, remember," he said as a devilish smirk crossed Whistler's face.

Whistler scrunched his face. "Suns be damned, this is going to be a long orn." Charging Wind shoved him out of the tent just in time for Leaping Sand to storm through like a sand storm.

"What are you thinking," she hissed, rage and pain at war on her face. The mechling retreated from him when he approached his mentor. Seeing the frightened action Leaping Sand took a deep calming breath and let it out. She did it twice more and her fins settled back to a more neutral but still angry position. "Ratchet, you cannot do this. I won't let you. No one is going out into the desert, I don't care what North Wind says."

Ratchet sighed and looked at the neat rows of jars. "You know as well as I do he's looking for any excuse to get rid of me, I will not let him kill an innocent simply because he's never liked me." He lifted his optics back to his mentor's. "And I have no intention of dying or of letting him die. He held up his hand with the map. Leaping Sand's optics went to the map and then to the mechling hesitating to come close again and then at her apprentice.

The anger left her face but the pain remained. "Be careful my little one," she said cupping his face with both her hands. "I assume Whistler and Charging Wind are going with you. They're tearing through those packs you brought like a couple of alkilab with a fresh kill and snarling at anyone who gets too close." Pulling her hands from his face she instead wrapped them around his shoulders and pulled him into a fierce hug. "Promise me, somehow, some way you will send word back to me," she said pulling back with fluid shimmering in her optics. She would not let it fall. Ratchet had seen that look on her face many times over the seasons as clan members lay in the tent and breathed their last. "I may not have carried you in my spark, but I have held you since you were smaller than him. You are my mechling in all but name and I will worry until the suns fall from the sky."

Ratchet dipped his head and rested it on her shoulder. He hadn't realized he was taller than her. She had been someone larger than even the mountains since he could remember. But when he hugged her he realized she was a full head shorter than him now and her shoulders far narrower than his. "I promise, I will find a way even if I have to send smoke on the wind," he whispered. He had no memory of his creators who had died in battle. Everything he knew about love, about family, about everything had come from the femme in his arms. Bright Star and all the other warriors had added their wisdom over the seasons, but it was Leaping Sand that he had always looked to for answers.

Small hands pressed hesitantly against his leg and he stepped back to look down at the mechling looking between them with no small amount of fear. Leaping Sand bent down and hoisted the mechling into her arms. "Try to take care of him," she said softly. "Whistler and Charging Wind will be dragging him thither and yon if they get half a chance." The mechling tilted his head back and forth and looked at Ratchet trying to figure out what was going on.

Ratchet unfolded part of the map, facing away from the door. He pointed to the amber and citrine stones denoting the desert. "You, here," he said softly and pointed from the mechling back to the map. He unrolled it more to the beautiful field of wildflowers and trees. Running his finger lightly across the map from the desert to the mountains all the way to the shimmering field he said, "We're going here." The mechling's optics lit up with understanding. He turned to Leaping sand and started a long one-sided conversation as Ratchet folded the map and hid it and the hide of jewels under his blanket.

Leaping Sand smiled and pressed a kiss to the mechling's cheek. "I'm certain he just promised me he would keep you safe," she said with a laugh in her voice but fluid in her optics again. Putting the mechling on the ground again she pressed another kiss to his forehead. "Don't forget to take care of yourself, too," she said. Straightening she looked at Ratchet. "Go prepare," she said. "You have a long journey ahead of you. The Iron Mountains are almost a full season distant. Make sure you pack a good rope, you may need to climb."

Ratchet gave her a grateful look for the advice. He hadn't thought at all about rope. The size of the journey he was about to undertake threatened to overwhelm him, but he was a full-fledged warrior and he forced himself to walk out of the tent with his head high. Looking back he called for the mechling to follow. He skipped out of the tent and took hold of Ratchet's cloak as he usually did and looked around with interest as they walked through the camp.

By now the camp should have been alive with noise and voices gossiping as the suns rose higher, but it was still eerily quiet. Those who spoke did so in a quiet murmur and when they caught sight of him they stopped talking completely.

Ratchet didn't pay much attention to their looks, keeping his focus on what he would need to keep himself and the mechling alive for the journey. Normally an exiled mech wasn't allowed to take anything but what was on him at the time of the sentencing. But since North Wind had used the noble excuse of reuniting a lost mechling with his kin, he couldn't object to Ratchet getting a pack and filling it with a rope thick enough for climbing and a few sections of thinner rope that could be used for snares. He also made sure he had flint. Charging Wind and Whistler would also have some, but flint was small enough to be easily lost. He also went by the weavers to see if they had any blankets small enough for the mechling to use as a bedroll.

Red Spool handed him a pretty dark blue blanket with sand brown diamonds woven through it. "I know you're not planning on lying down and dying," the old mech said handing him the bundle. "When Bright Star said you didn't want to be clan leader I couldn't imagine what the fates thought to do with you, but I see now the ancestors were guiding you to something much bigger than this clan."

Ratchet blinked in surprise, his spark skipping a pulse. That conversation with Bright Star had been private. They'd been out hunting, just the two of them, when the old mech had asked Ratchet if he wanted to be the successor. He'd been as flabbergasted then as he was now that Red Spool mentioned the conversation. "What…how?" he asked trying to figure out who else besides Red Spool might know. Bright Star must have confided in some of the older warriors, but which ones and—Suns be _damned_ —did North Wind know? The hostility now made at least some sense. North Wind had to know he hadn't been the first choice and how many in the clan were like Red Spool, disappointed Ratchet hadn't taken the position. Leaping Sand had never said anything about it, but she had to know.

"Oh young warrior, I didn't mean to add to your trouble," the old weaver said gently holding his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

Ratchet came back to himself and pushed those thoughts aside for later. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone else knew about that," he said still a little shaken by how casually Red Spool had referenced that moment. "And…thank you," he added feeling his spark recovering from the shock and warming. Red Spool had always been one of his favorite clan members, always full of stories about his travels when he was a young mech. And he was the only one willing to try and teach Ratchet how to weave no matter how many times he made knots in the thread. Red Spool gave him a warm smile, understanding Ratchet's thanks was for more than just a blanket.

The rest of the orn was an odd blur for him as he tried to reason out which of Bright Star's trusted confidants had gossiped to the rest of the clan and inadvertently engineered Ratchet's current predicament. Charging Wind was still making a show of not talking to him, even though it was already known through the clan that she and Whistler were going with him. North Wind would be thrilled. Or perhaps he wouldn't. The more Ratchet looked at the clan members he'd known all his life the more he could pick out those that most likely shared Red Spool's thoughts about him being clan leader. North Wind may have gotten rid of Ratchet, but he had made many his enemy in doing so.

Ratchet sat with the mechling with his feet hanging over the ledge. The suns were beginning their descent toward the horizon and he still had a few things of his trade to prepare but he needed a moment to sit still and clear his head. The mechling curled in his lap and was dozing in Ratchet's shadow while his guardian thought.

He didn't realize how forlorn he must have looked with the mechling cradled in his arms as he stared into the middle distance until a quiet step behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to see Leaping Sand coming to sit next to him. "If you're trying to win sympathy you've done a marvelous job, but if you sit out here much longer they may think you're broken with grief."

Ratchet frowned and then rolled his optics skyward. "I cannot get a breem of peace this afternoon," he grumbled. Leaping Sand laughed and the mechling yawned and lifted his head to see what was funny. "Leaping Sand," he asked softly, thoughts turning back to the circles they'd been chasing before she sat down. She gave him her full attention which was a bit like being sighted by a hunting predator. "Did you know…what Bright Star asked me?"

She nodded without hesitation. "And I know you had your reasons to say no," she said. "Don't let others' expectations dictate your actions now. As I said yesterorn, being a warrior has never been an easy path, but your spark has never led you astray. It hasn't now."

"I feel like it has," he said. "I didn't think anyone knew, but the more I look around this orn I see all but the youngest knew and I don't know if this clan will survive another season." He had done everything he could since Bright Star died to keep the peace between himself and North Wind and now it seemed it was all for nothing. Anger and sorrow were moving through the camp faster than a cahm thueban's venom and much like that poison there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Leaping Sand put a hand on his shoulder. "You have more than enough to worry about if you plan on taking that mechling as well as Charging Wind and Whistler into the desert with you. You leave us to take care of the clan. I promise, we will be here when you come home." She drew her feet up and stood. "Now let's go before everyone gets it in their minds that I'm going with you, too." Ratchet snorted and woke the mechling up so they could both get back to everything that needed to be done.

 **oOo**

 **A/N:** That's a solid 30,000 words right there.

I mentioned in another story that my contract in China ended. It's been a _wild_ year you guys. This time last year I had started _Monster_ while I was still in the States and finished it in China. I don't know where I'll be when this story wraps up but it's great having you all along for the ride. Thank you for hanging out with me on here.

Anyway, adorable little mechling is adorable, yes? Any guesses who the lil' guy is? It'll be a few chapters before the big reveal but let's place some bets! :D


	4. Chapter 4

As night fell Ratchet returned to the ledge to think in peace. He let his feet dangle, one heel tapping against the rough canyon wall absently. Below darkness stretched through the riverbed and the uneasy feeling he'd been having off and on came back. He stared into the darkness but the feeling didn't disappear. Something was in the shadows watching him, sizing him up, deciding how much of a threat he was. It wasn't a feeling Ratchet enjoyed when he could see his opponent, now it sent a cold wash dread through him.

"Ratchet?" Charging Wind called softly.

He didn't look away from the darkness below. "Do you feel that?" he asked in a normal voice, optics straining to see what lurked below. Boulders and jagged protrusions and deep clefts in the walls hid deep shadows that morphed into odd shapes when he stared too long. Charging Wind came to crouch next to him and sucked in a quiet breath.

"This is what I felt that night you saw that dark beast," she said quietly. "Something hunting, waiting for an opening." They sat in prickly silence for a breem but the feeling didn't go away. "Should go down and see if we find anything?"

As a warrior, Ratchet prided himself on courage and honor, but, as Bright Star had told him countless times, being smart about danger was more important than any amount of courage. "No," Ratchet answered. "Whatever is down there…we will not match it. We can't even see it." As the suns set lower and the darkness crept up the sides of the canyon walls he felt as if whatever was below was also drawing nearer. His exoform prickled from the back of his neck all the way down his spinal relay. Without conscious thought one hand wrapped around the hilt of a knife.

"Something is wrong here," Charging Wind whispered. Her hand flexed on her staff and she shifted her position but didn't stand.

Drawing his feet up, Ratchet slowly stood and picked up a rock half the size of his fist and focused on the dark. He stopped trying to look for whatever was causing dread to run through his lines but instead focused on where he _felt_ the worst of the anxiety. With a casual gesture he threw the rock at the shadows coming up the canyon wall.

The rock bounced down the wall with a hollow echo and the wind itself stilled for a breathless second before two ruby red optics appeared in the darkness just below the ledge. The not-namurr glowered at Ratchet with hatred he had never seen in an animal's optics. Charging Wind swore and drew a knife. Silvery-white teeth flashed in the darkness and the creature hissed a low venomous sound. Ratchet responded in kind and faster than he had at the campsite drew a knife and hurled it at the creature. The creature was close enough Ratchet couldn't miss. The blade shimmered in the fire orange light of the setting suns as it whistled through the air. The creature yowled and suddenly disappeared into the shadows as quickly as it had appeared, its howl of fury echoing on the canyon walls the only evidence it had been there. Ratchet heard the knife fall to the stones at the bottom of the canyon.

Charging Wind whirled to look at him, optics wide in the setting sun. "That?"

"That," Ratchet answered, still staring into the darkness. The feeling of being watched persisted but now it was flavored with undeniable fury.

They left the ledge and returned to the camp proper where several were asking about the strange sound they'd just heard. Ratchet didn't add to the conversation and neither did Charging Wind. It would be easy to accuse them of trying to make the clan uneasy before their departure. And, if the creature had followed them from the camp, it wasn't after the clan, it was after one of them. Now, it was most likely after Ratchet. He didn't regret scaring the creature off twice, but he didn't want the mechling to be caught in whatever fight was to be had with the thing.

The mood during dinner was subdued with many avoiding Ratchet's optics. With the many complicated things now occupying his thoughts he couldn't find the extra space to care. The mechling though was very much aware of how uneasy everyone was and stayed glued to Ratchet's side.

Looking down at the little mech watching everyone with suspicion and confusion he wished again he could speak to the mechling, explain to him what was happening and why. Sighing he rubbed the little mech's back and that perked him up a bit but he still refused to stray out of easy reach of Ratchet.

From the crowd Arrow appeared next to Ratchet. "I'm coming with you," he said softly. All thoughts crashing to a stop Ratchet blinked up at him. Whistler and Charging Wind everyone assumed were coming with him, they'd been a trio since they were young. Even with Ratchet's busy apprenticeship with Leaping Sand they'd spent every spare moment together. The mechling made a soft cooing sound and reached up and took Arrow's hand. The mech smiled down at him, sorrow darkening his optics.

Ratchet's processor started working again. "Arrow," he said gently. "There are mechs here that need protection as much as the mechling, some more than others." The warrior's optics still dark with sorrow looked over the crowd but Suns' Blessing was not among the clan. "I will keep the mechling safe or die trying. Suns' Blessing needs you. Your strength is why he is still with us. If you leave him now he won't survive."

Arrow was quiet for a long moment, his optics on the middle distance. "I need to know I can protect something, that I can do something. I'm so tired of feeling useless," he said softly. His hand stroked the top of the mechling's head as the mechling continued crooning and cooing.

"You are not useless," Ratchet said. "Suns' Blessing is under attack from things worse than raiders, it's his thoughts that are tearing him apart. You know him better than anyone. The others can protect his body, but you're the only one who can keep him safe from this." Ratchet took his hand other hand. "Healing is not quick, it's not easy, and sometimes you go back as much as you go forward, the important thing is to make sure you still go forward." Arrow gave his hand a hesitant squeeze. His optics were still too dark, but he looked at Ratchet and nodded.

Picking up the mechling Arrow held him close for a moment. "Be careful," he said softly. The mechling crooned and hugged him back. Arrow set him down reluctantly. "I'll try, but I was not sparked a healer."

"You love him, you will find a way," Ratchet said.

Arrow looked in the direction of their tent. "Yes. I love him," he said after a moment. He left as silent as he had arrived and moved like a shadow through the subdued clan and was swallowed by darkness. Ratchet watched him go, sorrow and worry for the two now tangled with everything else in his head.

He didn't notice when North Wind entered the commons. What little conversation there was dropped off. Ratchet was still more concerned with the beast he had caught climbing up the wall and didn't pay much attention to the drop in sound. He and Charging Wind hadn't even seen it until Ratchet had thrown the rock. It was as if the creature wasn't even made of alloy and struts. And he dreaded finding his knife in the riverbed come morning. No one could have missed the creature with as close as it was. Yet he'd heard the distinctive clang of metal on rock. He couldn't even convince himself he'd imagined it. Charging Wind had seen it, the clan had heard it.

"I realize you're about to leave on a journey, but you could spare me the respect of an answer," North Wind's angry voice broke into his circling thoughts and he lifted his optics from the fire.

"What?" he asked completely unaware anyone had spoken to him. The mechling was holding onto Ratchet's leg and watching North Wind with open suspicion and dislike. Gently rubbing the back of his head he noted the odd sigils on the mechling's head seemed to be glowing in the firelight. Blinking and turning his gaze away from that he met North Wind's optics. "My thoughts were elsewhere, what did you say?"

"I asked if you and the little one are prepared," North Wind repeated with less anger and more graciousness. Ratchet almost ignored him again just to see how he would handle that but erred on the better side of his nature. It felt as if the wind blew the wrong way the clan would fall apart, he didn't want to add to it. Besides, this moment would likely be in the story that was passed down no matter if he returned or not. Better to make himself look good.

Rolling his shoulders back he glanced at the sky. Namurr was at half face and the shadows were deep. "Prepared enough, I suppose," he said. "Come little one, we have an early start tomorrow." He stood and the mechling waited to see which direction he was going before he scampered ahead of him, fleeing the tense silence. Ratchet left in a more sedate manner but even when he was gone from the firelight conversation did not pick up again.

That night odd howls filled the darkest part of the night and woke Ratchet from fitful recharge. At first he thought an alkilab pack had wandered close but while the alkilab always had a soothing harmony to their songs this was discordant. He lay awake listening to the strange sounds until they cut off abruptly. The silence that followed was more unsettling than anything he'd ever heard in the night. The creeping, hunting feeling he'd felt out in the open with the not-namurr returned trifold. He slipped a knife into his hand and made certain the mechling was covered with a blanket so he wouldn't be immediately spotted. The mechling shivered against him but didn't make any sound.

Silently, Ratchet sat up and didn't try to see in the pitch blackness of the tent but focused on what he was feeling. For now the feeling of unease was everywhere and nowhere. There was no focus to it. He didn't lower his guard. He sat unmoving until the feeling left sometime close to sunrise. Even then, he didn't fall back into recharge.

As the dimmest morning light began to brighten the tent's interior he saw Leaping Sand also sitting up with a knife in hand. They looked at each other and then at the tent flap. Rising without a sound the two of them untied the flap and pulled it aside and stepped out into the chilled morning. They were not the only ones moving silently. Boulder and Stormwind crept by with short swords held at their sides as they prowled through the camp. Ratchet made certain the flap to Leaping Sand's tent was tied shut before he started his own search.

Charging Wind managed to find him as the warriors slowly converged on the common area. "We heard nothing like that while we were out," she said softly. "But that feeling…" She shuddered. Ratchet nodded.

"Anything?" Ratchet asked softly of the gathered warriors.

"Not even footprints," Snake Charm said softly. "I know something was out there, I swear I heard gravel roll under someone's foot just outside our tent." Charging Wind and two others nodded in agreement.

The older warriors looked at the lightening sky and sighed. "Whatever it was, it's gone now," Venom said and rubbed his face. Ratchet didn't think any of the warriors had recharged more than a few joors. "Could have been a pack of alkilab brave, sick, or hungry enough to investigate the camp."

No one disagreed but Ratchet well knew none of the warriors would believe that ideal situation. Whatever had been howling during the night was not the work of alkilab. Rubbing his optics Ratchet looked at the sky just beginning to redden with the suns rise. Glancing at Charging Wind he said, "Are you ready?"

The femme nodded and said, "I'll get Whistler. Meet you at the path." A few of the warriors looked at her blankly and then their recharge clouded minds caught up with what she said and their fins flipped up and back in surprise.

"You're going with him? You and Whistler both?" Venom said in a carefully neutral tone. Snake Charm rolled her optics out of his line of sight and a couple others gave him disbelieving looks.

Charging Wind glowered at him. "Of course," she snapped and then she smiled, showing her teeth. "It is a task filled with honor, is it not? It isn't fair for Ratchet to get all of it, how will he carry it?" Venom's optic twitched and the camaraderie the eerie sounds had brought was swiftly buried under old and new tensions.

"The clan will be hard pressed to hold of an attack with two warriors gone," Venom said still trying to keep his voice even. Ratchet rolled his optics, uncaring now if Venom was insulted by the slight. It was too early for these sly politics. But it was true the clan would be hard pressed with three warriors leaving and Ratchet did feel a bit uneasy about that. He couldn't very well tell Whistler and Charging Wind what to do though. It would be easier to tell the suns not to rise. They had made their choice and Ratchet was selfish enough to be glad they had chosen him. The rest of the clan was, if not happy, quiet and hoping that his absence would be enough to soothe tempers. He didn't think that was going to work, but what he thought no longer mattered.

"Whistler is coming too," Charging Wind said, "So there will be three warriors gone." Tilting her head to the side when Venom glowered at her again she said without concern. "Ratchet too will be hard pressed to hold off a dedicated attack if he's left alone. The ledge is easy to defend, even with three warriors gone I believe you are all fierce enough to hold off any intruders." Venom's jaw clenched but he didn't say anything else lest he accidentally call into question the honor of the other warriors.

Ratchet sighed and left the group to collect his pack and the mechling. "Let's get going, the orn isn't going to get any cooler."

He returned to Leaping Sand's tent and found the mechling looking exhausted and waiting for him. He reached up pleadingly and Ratchet obligingly picked him up and held him against his spark. He held the mechling for a silent few breems letting himself relax a bit and feeling the fast but steady pulse of the mechling's spark against his. "I see why you don't like the alkilab howls," Ratchet murmured so soft it hardly disturbed the silence of the tent. Pressing a kiss to the mechling's head he held him a little tighter and wished he could take another half orn of recharge to prepare for the difficult journey.

Leaping Sand ducked in breaking the sedate silence that had overtaken the tent. Ratchet lifted his head but the mechling was in recharge. "I can't believe none of those idiots really thought Charging Wind and Whistler were going with you," his mentor said letting the flap fall shut behind her. "They are almost as blind as they are stupid. Are you packed?" she asked as she looked over Ratchet and as much of the mechling as she could see hidden in Ratchet's arms.

"Yes," he answered. "Will you hold him while I get ready?" Leaping Sand took the meching without hesitation and soothed him back into recharge when he started to wake. Throwing his cloak over his shoulders he made certain he had his weapons and pouches tied before picking up his pack and shrugging it onto his back. It was heavy with both food and water for him and the mechling. Picking up the mechling's small pack he put it over his shoulder. It was light as a feather and Ratchet smiled a bit thinking of what was packed in it.

"What did he pack?" Leaping Sand asked catching his smile as he put the small bag on his shoulder. Ratchet pointed to the pouches tied at his waist and Leaping Sand suppressed a warm laugh. "Little healer, made certain you had the essentials." Pressing a kiss to his forehead she passed him back to Ratchet. "Red Spool has something for you," she added. "I think he intended to catch you early, but those strange sounds have everyone awake."

Ratchet stepped out of the tent and the mechling made an unhappy sound when the cold morning air washed over him. Ratchet huffed a tired laugh but shifted his hold so more of the mechling was under his cloak. So early, it was usually only the cooks and gatherers awaked, but as Leaping Sand had said, the odd night had even the small ones awake and peering into the shadows. His steps were soft on the dew damp ground and he made it to the common area with only a few spotting him. Red Spool was easy to find, he was the only one not jumping at shadows.

He called the mech's name softly and the mechling lifted his head and looked up at the pink-orange sky before he wriggled to be set down. Rubbing his optics with both small fists he gave Red Spool at happy smile and hugged his leg. "Ah, little one. You'll have to come back and tell us some of your stories," he said with a smile. When he looked at Ratchet his attitude sobered. "This will be not be an easy journey," he said soft enough others would not overhear. "I don't remember the exact path we took to the Iron Mountains, but I do recall the pass is where the stream begins. It's there just past the Suns' Swords. I watched the merchants go up the trail, they stayed where the land was black even though the other tracks looked easier to forge. I've no idea why, but if that was the path they chose while heavy with goods, there must be a good reason why." The scope of the undertaking threatened to overwhelm Ratchet again but he gave Red Spool's forearm a gentle squeeze in thanks. He hadn't considered there would be more than one pass. "But," the old weaver said, a smile back on his face, "I didn't seek you out to frighten you with stories." He turned around and picked up a bundle from the ground. Shaking it out revealed a hooded cloak to match the mechling's done in shades of brown.

"You finished it," Ratchet said, warm delight in his voice. The mechling looked at the cloak and then down at his and trilled a few words. Red Spool laughed, as he always did when non-weavers were amazed by the things they accomplished. "You must have worked through the night, thank you," Ratchet said lowering his packs and exchanging the cloak he wore for the one in Red Spool's hands. The mechling scooped up his pack and then looked Ratchet up and down and made another happy sound. The cloak fit snug around his upper body but left his arms free and the material didn't get in the way of his knives or pouches. "Thank you," he said again still marveling at how quickly the cloak had been finished. It was a design never seen in their clan and it had been copied from a very young mech and yet it fit Ratchet perfectly.

"Now you're ready for a journey," Red Spool said.

Ratchet, Charging Wind, Whistler, and the mechling stood at the beginning of the path down to the riverbed. All of the clan was assembled despite the early hour. Sparks of anger and sorrow crackled in the air but Ratchet refused to address them. His journey was hard enough, he couldn't afford to worry about his clan. He put his faith in Leaping Sand's words that they would be able to take care of themselves. He need only survive long enough to get back to them.

Charging Wind gave Snake Charm a fierce hug and turned to head down the path as if they were going off on another short trip. Whistler too acted as if nothing was different calling a cheerful farewell and ambled after her. Ratchet wasn't cheerful or plucky, but he was not beaten or sad. He leaned down—still awed that he was so much bigger than his mentor—and gave Leaping Wind a hug.

Behind them, voices carrying up the cliff walls, Whistler asked, "Do you even know where you're going?"

Leaping Wind whispered, "Be careful." Before he pulled away.

From the bottom of the canyon Charging Wind snapped, "Don't question me!"

Ratchet snorted. "I will be as careful as possible with those two."

"Those two what?" Charging Wind yelled back. A true smile crossed Ratchet's face and he glanced at the mechling. Leaping Sand pulled the mechling into a tight hug as well. Her optics were clear when she stepped back.

The mechling looked between Ratchet and the clan with tired optics shadowed by fear. He said a soft word at Ratchet held out his hand. "It's all right, mechling." Early morning light caught the shimmer of fluid in the mechling's optics. But he reached out a hesitant hand and wrapped his small fingers around Ratchet's. "Come on, we need to collect those two," he raised his voice as he turned down the path, "Daring, brave, adventurous, skilled, fearsome—"

"Shut up," Charging Wind said from the bottom of the path.

"You forgot dashing and handsome," Whistler shouted back indignantly. Ratchet rolled his optics but he did not feel the pain of separation he'd thought he would. Whistler and Charging Wind were bright with expectation. And as Whistler had said the orn before, it was the adventure of a generation. The last one to venture as far as the Iron Mountains was Red Spool when he'd been about their age. And they were going to go beyond the mountains. Fear and curiosity bubbled in his lines in a heady mixture that threatened to make him dizzy. He looked down at the mechling looking at the ground as he walked.

Picking him up, the mechling made a quiet sound of surprise but wrapped his arms around Ratchet's neck. "It's all right, mechling," he murmured. "He would have sent me out into the desert the first opportunity he had. At least you have given me purpose." The mechling lifted his head and looked back where Ratchet could feel the clan still watching them.

At the bottom of the path, despite their cheerful banter, Charging Wind's optics were troubled as she held out Ratchet's knife. Chest going tight he took the blade and turned it over a few times but there was no indication it had even nicked the not-namurr. Sheathing the knife Ratchet took a deep breath and looked down at the mechling curled against his chest dozing. "We'll have to figure it out on the way," he said keeping his voice low so it wouldn't carry.

Charging Wind straightened her shoulders and nodded once sharply before turning on her heel and striding down the riverbed swinging her staff. Mist clung to the ground at the bottom and the chill of night was strong enough to bite through his cloak. The mechling sniffed the mist laden air and perked up enough he wriggled to be set down. Setting the mechling down Ratchet looked at Whistler and smiled. Whether they lived or died, this orn would be a story told for generations. Whistler's wide grin answered him and they set off together with the mechling holding tight to Ratchet's cloak.

A sharp bark halted their party before they'd taken half a dozen steps. Looking back to see their clan silhouetted by the rising suns Ratchet could name all of the shadows big and small standing on the ledge. Coming down the path was another shadow he recognized with a jolt of surprise. "Rockfall?" he said his name as a question his voice bouncing off the walls.

The old warrior gave Ratchet a small smile. "The last time three young warriors set out on their own, they almost shot the suns from the sky," he said in answer. Ratchet laughed. He knew the story in question, those three young warriors had been sparked from one of the gods though.

"I don't know if we could find that much trouble," Ratchet said.

"Speak for youself," Whistler retorted.

Ratchet wanted to tell the old warrior he didn't have to come, but Rockfall was a warrior of six colors; old enough to know his own mind. If he had decided to join this possibly suicidal party, Ratchet would welcome his company for as long as they had it. Rockfall gave Whistler an appraising look and then looked down at the mechling who made a quiet distressed sound when he recognized the old warrior. "Has he been like this since the noise last night?" Rockfall asked softly. He put a soothing hand on the mechling's head and smiled at him.

Ratchet nodded. "I wish I could speak to him," Ratchet added. "If those are the sounds that have kept him fearful of alkilab he's heard it many times before and given his fear, nothing good has ever followed it.

"The point of a journey is to walk," Charging Wind called from down the riverbed. Rockfall and Ratchet shared a look as Whistler swung around to yell at her about walking in the wrong direction.

Still, the four started walking again, Whistler striding to catch up to Charging Wind as they spit curses back and forth. Rockfall huffed a laugh. "We've a long journey ahead of us," he said softly. "And not much to do on a trip but talk. I'm certain we'll all know some new words by the time we reach the Iron Mountains."

"What makes you think we're going to the mountains?" Ratchet asked looking straight ahead.

Rockfall swatted the back of his head. "Every warrior with half a mind knows you'll head for the mountains. You're not going to wander out here and die in the sun, not with the little one." He didn't hide his grimace at that. Had it been any other warrior with the little one Ratchet would have guessed the same thing.

"Then I suppose we should walk quickly before they decide to look for the map," Ratchet said gesturing for the mechling to run and catch up with Whistler. The mechling looked up and back once more before he let go of his cloak and scampered forward. Rockfall laughed and a rough arm slung over his shoulders. North Wind would be furious the jewels were gone but without the map and the original raiding party now committed to their exile there would be no way for him to chase after them. Ratchet wondered briefly if that was why Rockfall had joined them, so North Wind couldn't order him to lead another band to the mechling's campsite. He didn't let his thoughts dwell on that though or the fragile good mood he had found would shatter. Rockfall was an old warrior who had survived his share of famine and battles. He had his reasons for coming and Ratchet wouldn't drill him with questions, he would simply enjoy having the older warrior with them.

Walking down the riverbed was much faster without the sledge, but a night without recharge still left their pace slow. The mechling was in recharge in Ratchet's arms as they walked down the sandy riverbank. Rockfall walked next to Ratchet looking a bit tired but not as exhausted as Ratchet thought he might. "Rockfall," he started hesitantly. "why didn't you stay with the clan?" He'd thought he could let the warrior keep his reasons to himself but as they moved farther down the riverbed Ratchet's concern and curiosity continued to gnaw at him. "With four warriors gone the clan can be overwhelmed no matter how defensible the ledge is."

"That's why," Rockfall said softly not taking offense at the probing question or breaking his stride. "Everyone in that clan knows what North Wind is doing and they let you go without a word, save for Leaping Sand, and yet here you are worrying about how they'll fair. That's why Bright Star chose you first. If I'm going to die for a clan, I'd rather it be the better part of the clan." The words were tempered with a fine edge of anger and Ratchet again wondered just how many in the clan knew Bright Star had asked him first.

Ratchet watched his feet when he'd rather look at the sky and said, "You know, until Red Spool told me yesterorn I didn't think anyone but Bright Star and I knew about that conversation. That's why I thought he waited until we were out hunting."

Rockfall looked at him in surprise and a hint of amusement. "About everyone in the clan figured that was why he pulled you aside for that hunting trip. When you came back and two orns later he named North Wind his successor we knew you'd turned him down for whatever reason."

"So North Wind has known all this time he was second choice," Ratchet said. "Had I known that I wouldn't have spent so much time wondering why he'd suddenly become so hostile."

Rockfall laughed and shifted his pack so the strap was resting better on his shoulder. "You honestly didn't know? That's why everyone has been on their toes around you two, they figured you knew as well and were being difficult to make a point."

"Suns above, are you joking?" Ratchet said.

"Only if you are."

Fighting the urge to turn back to the clan and tell every single one of them they were stupid and everything that was happening now was their fault he said instead, "Well, at least now I know why he hates me so much."

"If it makes any difference, Leaping Sand has always been adamant you had no idea anyone else in the clan knew," Rockfall added. That did make him feel a bit better, but now there was no way for him to verify that. Unless he somehow survived and reunited the mechling with his lost clan and returned.

Pushing himself out of the past he lifted his head a bit and looked ahead at the winding river. "Well, he's finally gotten his wish. Now let's hope there will still be a clan left to return to." He had no idea what kind of ripples Rockfall's exit would cause within the clan. The anger in the mech when he'd spoken about Ratchet being the 'better' part of the clan was old and steady. Some of the pained looks he'd gotten the orn before also seemed to agree with that sentiment. If enough warriors decided to break away from the clan he could imagine Red Spool and a few other weavers might go with them. He had no idea what Leaping Sand would do but if she split off with another group there was only a slim chance of them ever finding each other again. His spark ached at the thought of never seeing his mentor again. He knew a lot but she had been alive many seasons longer than him, she still knew a great deal more than he.

After a few breems of silence passed Rockfall changed the subject. "That noise last night," he said, "it had a lot of the warriors concerned, the lack of footprints this morning had even more spooked, but we've dealt with a creature that doesn't leave prints. You think it was the same one?"

Ratchet looked down at the mechling to make certain he was still in recharge even though he couldn't understand the conversation and nodded slowly. The dew wet rocks cast an illusion of shadows where the suns couldn't yet reach them to dry them out. "I saw it again. Charging Wind saw it too. The black namurr. I don't know what that thing is, Rockfall, but it is not natural. It was climbing up the canyon wall as the suns set last night, I threw a knife straight at it and that is the same knife Charging Wind returned to me this morning."

"You're certain?" the old warrior asked.

Ratchet nodded without hesitation. "I may doubt my senses once, but I will not do it a second time. That animal was not made of struts and alloy. It was not even visible to us until I tossed a rock at it. That feeling of being stalked is the same we both had the first night I saw it."

Rockfall nodded slowly. "I have been trying to remember more of that story I heard but as I said, I was young. I recall the teller did not call it a namurr at first, he used a different word until he realized we didn't know the animal he spoke of, then he started calling it a namurr. I know the story made a great deal many of us young ones fearful to venture out after the suns had set." His voice drifted as he thought back to the distant memory. Ratchet walked in easy silence next to him. The mechling was starting to feel heavy but he did nothing more than pull him a little higher on his hip to give his arms a break.

"Shadows," Rockfall said after a lengthy silence. "That's what frightened us, the shadows. He said something about a creature that hid in shadows and…must have done something unpleasant." Sighing he shrugged. "I think that's the best I'll get from this old mind."

"We know a story of this thing exists," Ratchet said. "That means _someone_ has seen it. We have a long trek ahead of us, we may yet meet someone who knows the story or has seen it before." He was hoping to cross paths with a merchant who could give them certain directions to the crossing in the Iron Mountains. Merchants were far and few during the lean season though so that was a distant hope. "And…thank you," he said softly.

"I haven't done anything worth thanks." Rockfall laughed.

"No, I mean…thank you, for thinking I would be a good clan leader." He had been surprised enough when Bright Star asked him to be his successor, now he was feeling a bit overwhelmed that others in the clan also thought he would make a good leader. He knew himself though, he could be as temperamental as the wind, impatient as fire, and stubborn as rock when he thought he was right. Those weren't qualities he thought a clan leader should have, at least not in overabundance like he did. He thought clan leaders should be like Bright Star, calm and steady as the suns.

Rockfall put a hand on his back since the mechling's head was on his shoulder. "I think you'll make a better leader than you think," he said softly. "Someone has to. Whistler is just as likely to lead us off a cliff as Charging Wind is." His voice carried down the canyon and the other two shot indignant looks back and began to loudly decry his accusation and point at each other. Ratchet laughed and looked up at the sky for a brief moment letting himself enjoy this moment of relative peace. The mechling was safe in his arms, and he was with three warriors he trusted above all others. It was a fine start to an adventure

 **oOo**

The chill of morning clung to the stones until the suns were high enough to reach the riverbed. Ratchet restarted their game with the mechling where he would point to something and get the mechling's word for it and then he would tell the mechling their word. It had taken a few tries to remind the mechling how the game worked, but he remembered what they were doing and was enthusiastic about the game. Whistler played off and on and Rockfall had kept up for a joor until he said his old processor needed time to remember the words he'd already learned.

Ratchet knew both his native language and the trade language merchants used when they came through during the cooler season; he also knew a few words in other clans' languages. Learning the mechling's language was a challenge since none of the words he used sounded anything like the languages he knew. He could remember the other languages he knew because while there were some dramatic differences there were some things that were similar enough even if he didn't know the word spoken he could guess what it meant. The mechling's language was made of soft and long sounds like coos or mournful howls. The contrast with Ratchet's short barking language made him marvel at how the mechling wasn't still frightened of them. Had he come from a clan with such gentle sounds he was certain he would have fought anyone that approached him with words that sounded like growls and snaps and hisses.

When the heat of mid-orn struck Ratchet carried the mechling as he recharged. The mechling felt so light in his arms, unlike the hard compact bodies of the little ones in their clan that he had carried. Charging Wind dropped back to talk with him while Whistler took the lead starting in on a bawdy tune that had Rockfall laughing. "Are we going all the way back to his camp?" she asked nodding at the drowsing mechling.

"No," Ratchet said. "We just need to put an orn or so between us and any pursuit North Wind might send for the map. At camp tonight we'll work out what landmarks we know that will get us to the pass we need." Warm gratitude filled his spark when he thought of Red Spool. "Red Spool told me this morning that the pass is at Suns' Swords and we need to keep to the path of black ground."

Charging Wind looked at him in surprise. "You told Red Spool you were going to the mountains?"

Ratchet shook his head. "Rockfall said most of the camp has already guessed that's where we'll head. Red Spool told me what he could about the pass. And we've all heard his stories enough we can tell them ourselves. I know we will pass by Ancestor's Peak and Shadow Gorge. He couldn't remember the exact route, but those stories with this map will let us know if we're staying on course."

Charging Wind thought about that for a few breems as the suns beat down on them. "I suppose we weren't as crafty as we thought," she said with a wry smile.

"We were crafty enough North Wind didn't think to look for the map last night," he said. Charging Wind laughed and the mechling lifted his head a fraction before he settled back in to his nap. They were walking up a gentle incline that would lead them onto the flat expanse of the desert. This was where they needed to disappear. Anyone could follow them down the riverbed, but up here they could go in any direction. "Let's pick up the pace. If he does think to go through those packs they'll have realized by now everything is gone. We need to be far enough from the riverbed no one will see the fire tonight."

Charging Wind nodded once and they lengthened their stride to catch up to Whistler and Rockfall. "If Whistler keeps caterwauling like that the scavengers will start to circle," she said loud enough for them to hear. Rockfall shook his head as Whistler spun around and the two young warriors started arguing back and forth again. The mechling tucked his head closer to Ratchet's neck and let out a long sigh as he settled back into recharge.

Looking up at the sky Ratchet was surprised to find he was…if not happy, content. The mechling was safe and for the first time since Bright Star's death he didn't have North Wind looming over him. He didn't have to bite his glossa or deal with the sly insults, the verbal sparring, or any of the many little things North Wind had done to make Ratchet uncomfortable at best and miserable at worst. He was unequivocally free. Holding the mechling close he pressed his cheek against the little mech's shoulder and breathed a sigh that took all the orns and nights of discomfort and unease with it.

 **oOo**

They made camp when the sky was navy blue and purple, the suns nothing more than a red glow on the horizon. There were no tents to set up, only bedrolls to unpack. Whistler dug a shallow hole and kindled a small fire. The mechling ate his dinner telling Ratchet the words for everything he could see and touch. Ratchet was certain he only caught half a dozen words, but they had many more nights of sitting around a fire and talking.

"Map, morning?" Charging Wind asked. She looked as tired as Ratchet felt. Ratchet nodded. He didn't feel up to interpreting to stylized bejeweled map or trying to reconcile that with Red Spool's stories. Rolling out the mechling's blanket close to the fire he lay down on the outside and stared into the night. Rockfall and Charging Wind were also settling down for recharge while Whistler faced out into the night to keep watch for anyone and anything that might sneak up on them. The mechling looked up at the night sky with fear and burrowed deep in his blanket until he was nothing more than a small lump like the packs.

Feeling much better rested the next morning, Ratchet pulled out the map while the others got their breakfast. Even with the sky still periwinkle and the suns not at full strength the jewels caught the light and dazzled. It was too long for any one mech to hold comfortably to—promising he would brush it off well—Ratchet laid it on the ground so they could all gather around it.

As they ate their dried meat they scoured the bejeweled map for landmarks they recognized. "It's amazing they made it as far as they did," Whistler said after a moment. "If you hadn't picked out Namurr's Head rock I don't think I would know what anything here is." Ratchet had to agree. No matter how he tilted his head or squinted he could not make out what was supposed to be what. There were pictures hidden within the shining jewels, but his optics couldn't make sense of them.

"Don't think too hard about it," Rockfall said. "Namurr's Head looks pretty well like a namurr's head." He tapped an exaggerated scorpion. "This is Scorpion's Tail. And over here is Nursur's Perch. We know what some of these, like Namurr's Head, look like. Imagine someone who's never seen them before what they might imagine it would be."

Charging Wind sighed and leaned on her staff as she looked over the map. "They've done a literal interpretation of the names. Here's Moon River," she said reaching forward and tracing a band of startling white moonstone deep in the ambers and topaz. "We have a starting place. Let's work backwards." She sat down on Ratchet's other side and put a finger on Namurr's Head. "From where we are now this is a septorn of hard travel north." Dragging her finger over to Star Catcher's Hill she said, "If we want to go to Star Catcher's Hill it's about the same distance but northeast." She frowned and Ratchet matched her expression.

"Red Spool said when he went with the caravan they moved south to get to the pass," Whistler said speaking what had snagged Ratchet's thoughts. He reached between Ratchet and Rockfall and tapped the stylized Scorpion's Tail. "This is the direction we need to head, south."

"But we don't know how far south," Charging Wind said with frustration "Red Spool said the caravan took almost a full moon turn to reach the pass. But we could go too far south or not far enough and spend another moon turn wandering up and down looking for the entrance.

Ratchet put his finger on a clump on onyx amidst the dazzling gold and yellows. It was near the base of the mountains just before the sapphire stream appeared and in sunlight while the diamonds and gems glittered it was a smooth dark place. "Suns' Swords, the ground is still scorched there," he said slowly. "So this is the entrance. We just have to follow the landmarks to get there. We've found Scorpion's Tail," he said drawing a line between that and the moonstone. "And this is Moon River." He paused and looked at the map trying to decide where the next landmark was.

"Red Valley," Whistler said circling a small cluster of reddish ambers. They didn't look much different than the others, but once he pointed it out the picture was clear. "And that leads to Nursur's Perch and then…" They all stared at the map in silence for a long time tilting their heads to and fro trying to make the pictures make sense.

"I can't figure it out," Charging Wind sighed. "I've never had an optic for art."

"That's why we're warriors," Rockfall said dryly.

"Well," Whistler said slowly, "Red Spool's merchant caravan went past most of these landmarks, they didn't go by Moon River, but that is supposed to be hard traveling. So…" he looked out into the middle distance as the suns continued to rise and spread warmth and light over the dusty brown landscape. He looked down at the map again after a few breems. "Burrow Rat Canyon, that was where they almost lost a wagon, remember? He said there were so many turns and dead ends if you lost sight of the group you were guaranteed to get lost."

Ratchet nodded. "So we need something that looks confusing."

"This whole thing is confusing," Charging Wind huffed.

Rockfall tapped a section of stones that didn't look any different to Ratchet. "This. These stones are laid out differently. They fit together like little trails, see how they turn at right angles to each other? None of the others do that."

Whistler swore without heat and rubbed his face. "Suns above, how is someone who's never seen this before supposed to know what any of this is?"

Ratchet ignored him for the time being and looked from Burrow Rat Canyon to the rest of the map. "Gods' Footsteps," he said moving his finger to the small sapphires set at even intervals south of the canyon." He put his other finger on the Suns' Swords. "If we work back from this point, the next landmark is—"

"Shadow Gorge," Charging Wind said flatly. "The place where the great monsters came from before the Seven Warriors sealed it shut." She looked up at the bright clear sky. "I think something has gotten loose from there." Had there been others with them, they might have laughed, but all of them had at least heard the not-namurr and they had all heard the strange howls at the camp. Ratchet was reevaluating just how much of those scary stories Red Spool told were made up.

Getting them back on track Whistler said, "And before the gorge is Ancestor's Peak. Those things should be pretty obvious once we're close to the mountains." He drew a line from Scorpion's Tail to all the other landmarks they had identified and came up with a jagged line leading all the way to the Suns' Swords.

"Well," Ratchet said as they looked at how far they needed to travel on the map. "Unless the gods take pity on us and move the mountains closer, we should get moving." Rockfall huffed a laugh and stood up with creaking joints. Charging Wind sprang up with more vigor and the mechling lifted his head from where he'd been drowsing. When he saw the warriors standing he picked up his little pack and unhooked his staff and looked up expectantly.

Rockfall slung his pack over his shoulders and started walking. "We need to make good time in familiar territory. Once we cross the southern line we'll have to keep a sharp lookout for clans." The invisible line was two septorns hard travel south of them and it ran from the distant ocean all the way to the mountains. Red Spool had met some of the other clans who treated him with suspicion even though he was with the merchant caravan and not a warrior.

"Do you know any of their languages, Ratchet?" Whistler asked. Ratchet shook his head. He knew some of the other northern clans' languages, but the line between North and South was rarely crossed by anyone not a merchant. If they were caught by a southern clan they would die. They had no caravan to protect them and no way to speak to anyone hostile.

 **oOo**

Ratchet woke when a piercing shriek echoed through the night. He was up and on his feet with his back to the fire before he'd blinked recharge from his optics. Behind him, the mechling whimpered. Doing a quick check he found the others also awake and bewildered by the unnatural sound. The mechling was balled up in his blanket and if Ratchet hadn't known he was there he would've thought the little mech was just another pack. The fire was close to embers and didn't cast much light around their circle. The chill of night clung close to Ratchet as he stared into the landscape trying to find the thing that didn't belong. The moons were high so he'd only been in recharge a few joors.

The orn of travel had been easier with them fully rested and they hadn't made camp until the suns were only slivers on the horizon. The awful sound came again and Ratchet snapped his head up. A birdlike silhouette streaked across Namurr's dwindling face. Lifting his cephalic fins Ratchet bared his teeth and hissed a challenge. He had no idea what night monsters had found them, but he wouldn't be frightened away. Not with the mechling behind him now still and quiet.

"What in the Six Moons is that?" Charging Wind hissed. Her staff whistled through the air when she gave it a quick spin. Something hitting the ground further out snapped Ratchet's attention away from her and back to the darkness. He hissed again, hands on the hilts of his daggers as he searched the night's shadows.

A sibilant voice like a whispered scream came from the dark. Ratchet didn't recognize the language and hissed another challenge. A hoarse laugh answered him. From the darkness three shadows rose from the ground and optics the colors of embers and colder than the night's chill stared at him.

Ratchet drew his daggers. The shadows came closer that hissing, screaming voice speaking again. He thought he was looking at mechs, but their bodies were misshapen. They were too broad in the shoulders and narrow in their legs, he thought they should topple over before they even took a step, but they advanced.

Light flared behind him and the three shadows flinched back and that Suns Cursed shriek shattered the night again. Turning his head against the sound he didn't stagger back. The mechling's small body was against his heel and past that was the fire Rockfall or Whistler had tossed more kindling on. The ring of firelight illuminated the three mechs and Ratchet's breath caught. It wasn't that their bodies were misshapen, but that they had _wings_. Firelight played across wings of deep blue, rich violet, and dark ash grey. The mech with ash grey wings stepped forward glaring at them. His face was something sung about in ballads. Despite his optics narrowed in hate they were exotic in their shape and color. The sleek planes of his narrow face made him look like a lean namurr. And then he spoke again and the screams in his voice were louder, as if there were other souls trapped inside him screaming for help.

"What do you want?" Ratchet snapped, glad now that their language was rough and short and coarse. He couldn't imagine making a demand of this beast in the mechling's soft flowing language. The mech's face wrinkled in distaste and while the structure remained beautiful, there was an ugly warping just below the surface, like a heat mirage the beauty was underscored by an opticless corpse caught in a scream. Swallowing hard, Ratchet snarled his question again. If they didn't speak the language the words themselves would be angry sounding, that all four of the warriors had weapons drawn would only back up the threat. Rockfall hissed and Charging Wind lifted her fins high, spinning her staff once more. Whistler stared unblinking with a growling hiss rumbling in his chest. It was the same kind of intimidation the alkilab used when met with larger predators.

The leader flared his wings and suddenly he was a breath from Ratchet's face. Ratchet didn't think. A lifetime of training, of seeing warriors fight in true battle, of fighting beside Bright Star came to the fore before any thought could slow him down. His left hand slashed out aiming for the mech's neck and the right cut in the opposite direction along his abdere.

Whatever the mech was expecting, it wasn't two blades trying to cut his throat and gut him at the same time. His wings flared again and the sweetly putrid scent of rot rushed over Ratchet before the mech was back with his fellows. A thin line of energon glowed on the mech's neck and more flowed from the cut to his abdere. Rage simmering in his optics he screeched at Ratchet and as suddenly as they had come the three sprang into the sky and disappeared from sight.

They stayed frozen for several breaths and then Ratchet lowered his shaking arms. Charging Wind crouched down and leaned on her staff while Whistler looked at Ratchet but couldn't manage to verbally ask if he was all right. Swallowing hard Ratchet shook his shoulders and nodded. The mech hadn't touched him, but the odor of rot was still hanging in the air.

"What was that?" Charging Wind asked, optics pale with fear. Ratchet shrugged and the three young warriors looked to Rockfall who was staring into the dark, his face a mask of anger.

"I don't know," he said at last. He looked at Ratchet, the cold ruthlessness of a warrior prepared to battle still in his optics. "But they bleed, and that is all that matters." Ratchet looked down at his daggers and the thin coating of energon along the blades. He nodded after a moment and lifted his head to scan the darkness. He didn't hear any screams or whispers but his exoform crawled as if something was still watching him. But they could bleed. No matter what kind of night monsters they were, they could bleed. And if they could bleed, they could die.

Looking up at Namurr and the distant light of stars he said, "I'll take watch."

Despite that, none of the warriors went back to recharge and they didn't let the fire die down again. The mechling he could feel trembling and while he sat close to the small bundle of blankets and fear he didn't try to pull the mechling into his arms as he wanted to. The night no longer felt safe and if the night monsters didn't know about the mechling, he wasn't going to bring him to their attention.

It wasn't until the horizon began to pale with the approaching suns did the oppressive feeling of being stalked abate. "They don't like light," Whistler said softly, the first words any of them had spoken since the attack.

"That's why they're called night monsters," Charging Wind said acerbically, "they don't like light." Whistler didn't take her tone to spark and didn't try to start an argument for which Ratchet was thankful. Only a few joors of recharge after a full orn of travel was not enough to keep exhaustion at bay.

He didn't turn his attention to the mechling until the horizon was delicate purple and orange and the landscape was lit by the earliest rays of light. "Mechling," he called softly. "The suns are rising, the night monsters are gone."

"That's why he's so scared when the alkilab howl," Whistler said moving stiffly to start rolling his bedroll and to get something to eat. "They don't sound anything like those monsters, but he's not from the desert and young, it's probably hard for him to tell the difference." The mechling moved slowly to uncover his head and looked up at Ratchet with optics still full of terror.

Gently stroking his cheek Ratchet said, "You're safe, mechling. The suns are here." Wriggling loose from his blanket he moved only to reach up and wrap his arms around Ratchet's neck. His small spark pounded against Ratchet's chest and he murmured softly to the mechling that he was safe. Charging Wind and Rockfall also started repacking their packs. And when the first searing gold arch of the suns peaked over the horizon they finally kicked sand and dirt over the fire.

"We don't even know what they wanted," Charging Wind said, frustration a low growl in her voice. She stood and paced back and forth while Ratchet coaxed the mechling to eat something. The higher the suns rose the less afraid he was but he still refused to let go of Ratchet's neck.

Ratchet reached into his pack and said, "We have a full orn to put distance between us and this place." He stood with his pack and the mechling holding tight to his cloak. "And we make certain from now on the mechling is hidden before true night comes." No one argued as they started walking, angling more south. Ratchet hadn't been to Scorpion's Tail before, but it was a favorite way point for the hunter-warriors during the Lean season. There was a spring that drew all animals to it and made for good hunting.

"Shadow Gorge," Charging Wind said as the suns warmed Ratchet's back. The mechling reached up asking to be held and Ratchet didn't hesitate to hoist him up. Snuggling tight against him despite the slowly rising temperature he let out a gusty sigh. The warriors were quiet and the mechling drifted into recharge in Ratchet's arms. Red Spool had told everyone about Shadow Gorge with great drama. The perpetual twilight of being somewhere so deep the suns' light couldn't fully reach the bottom. The strange creatures that scuttled in the darkness just out of sight and mournful wails and howls of the wind as it blew through the maze of passages.

"You think the last clan went through there and those things followed them out?" Whistler asked softly. The stories about Shadow Gorge frightened all the little ones, but by the time they reached their second color, most knew night monsters were just that—scary stories. Ratchet thought of the corpse face he'd seen twisting under the grey winged mech's face and the screams in his voice.

"They bleed," Ratchet said firmly. "They are not true night monsters, just mechs we've never seen before. They can be killed." Rockfall nodded next to him and Whistler blew out a breath as well and nodded.

"We're not the only ones who didn't recharge," Rockfall said. The mechling was deep in recharge already. He'd done the work of a warrior twice his age keeping up with them the orn before. He should have recharged from the moment he lay down to sunrise, yet he'd woken with all of them when the howls started.

"I think we'll all feel better if we put a fair bit of distance between this place and us," Ratchet said. Pulling the mechling's hood down a bit more so the rising suns wouldn't shine on his face and looked toward the Iron Mountains, so distant sunlight hadn't yet chased darkness away.

They were exhausted, but Rockfall was a warrior of six colors and Ratchet, Whistler, and Charging Wind were warriors of five colors. They pushed themselves to move faster than they had the orn before. The mechling recharged through the morning and there wasn't much conversation among the warriors as they walked. The jubilant sense of adventure was gone and replaced by a sense of trying to outrun the night.

Ratchet's thoughts turned more and more to the mechling's former clan and he didn't like the parallels his mind was drawing. They were both groups of warriors with only a single mechling traveling with them and they were traveling fast and light. He kept his brooding thoughts to himself though as Whistler tried to keep everyone's minds off the encounter the night before.

Close to mid-orn the mechling woke up enough he asked to be put down. Ratchet stretched his arms and slowed a bit so the mechling could shake out his limbs and find the pace. He didn't sing any little tunes and kept a firm hold on Ratchet's cloak looking up at the sky every so often with a glimmer of fear in his optics.

"All right," Charging Wind said as the suns began to touch the horizon. "We might as well talk about this before it gets dark." She spun around to look at Ratchet and continued walking backwards. The mechling cooed at her and she gave him a true smile, the first one she'd had all orn. "We're all thinking about the camp."

There were general grumbles of agreement.

"Kind of hard not to," Whistler said. "But it's out there now. So what? You think those things are what was chasing them?"

"It'd be foolish to not consider it." Rockfall said. "If they did commit suicide to stage a raider attack it would've had to been something they didn't think they could fight to drive them to that.

Charging Wind whirled around again so she was walking forward but slowed so she was keeping pace with the others instead of three strides ahead. "That's what I thought as well, but they left pretty quick after Ratchet cut their leader. If we see them again we can pounce and there are only four of us. There were at least a dozen at that camp."

"Maybe," Ratchet said softly, a hand wrapping around the hilt of his dagger, "They didn't know night monsters bleed." Silence greeted that soft statement. Ratchet scanned the immediate landscape for threats as he always did when they were grouped together to talk. And far off the Iron Mountains were still the same size they'd been when they set off that morning. His legs ached when he thought about just how far they had to walk just to reach the mountains. Suns and ancestors only knew what was on the other side of the mountains or how long it would take to cross the pass.

Whistler was the first to speak again. "Then that's either really good or really bad for us," he said slowly. "Good, if it means we've shaken them enough they won't try an attack. Bad if they think we're going to ruin that illusion for anyone else." Ratchet looked at the mountains again where they were assuming the mechling had come from.

"This is going to be really bad for us," Charging Wind said flatly. Ratchet nodded. If those three were the ones who had frightened fully fledged warriors enough they thought a fatal trick was the only way to defeat them, they certainly weren't going to let them continue on their way and maybe destroy whatever they were doing. Rubbing his face Ratchet looked up at the suns that seemed to be in a hurry to reach the far horizon.

"We need a plan," Rockfall said, the hardness from the night returning. "Those things came from the sky; I saw one of them cross the moon. I doubt they'll put themselves on the ground again in reach of our weapons."

Ratchet spat a curse. "That's why warriors trying to travel fast and light would keep their heavy tents. They were protected from a sudden attack from above." He cursed again and looked over the landscape for even a small grouping of rocks they could use to shelter against. All around him sand swirled in small cyclones and hardy desert bushes shivered in the wind. Small thorny plants that horded water were interspersed with the tough bushes. Clumps of rust leaf and other plants he recognized added dull splashes of dark green to the browns and golds of the desert but there were not rocks to hide against.

Rockfall echoed his curse as the others came to the same conclusion he had. They'd be spending another long night out in the open. "They don't like light," Rockfall said.

"A ring of fire?" Charging Wind suggested and then shook her head. "No, it'll ruin our night vision and who knows if they don't actually like it. It might've just startled them."

Rockfall nodded giving the femme and proud look she didn't see as she looked around at what little they had to work with. "Yes, we can't base all of our strategy off what only saw once."

"Thorns?" Whistler said sidestepping a plant with thorns as long as claws. "That's what plants do to keep birds off them. What if we find a good clump of thorny plants and bed down there?"

"That might work," Ratchet said as he looked over the landscape again, this time assessing the plants. "They'll also have water under their roots we can drink, save what's in our skins for the time being."

"There," Ratchet said, pointing to a dark clump of bleed weed. He didn't think anyone else called it that, but the thorns were sharp and curved like fangs which made getting to their delicate leaves a task that always left energon behind. So he and Leaping Sand had always referred to it as bleed weed. It was actually used for body aches and had nothing to do with bleeding or clotting.

He led the group to the clump and walked around it a few times. It was just big enough if they recharged almost on top of each other they'd fit in the clump. Whistler grimaced when he saw the wickedly curved thorns and muttered, "Stupid bird-mechs."

Ratchet wasn't looking forward to another rechargeless night either, but didn't say anything. "We can find some burrow rats around here somewhere," he said looking over the clumps of green. The sleek rodents liked to eat roots and with as many plants as there were through here the ground would be cool with whatever water was underground.

"Burrow rats and thorns. This adventure is stupid," Charging Wind said and Whistler barked a laugh. Ratchet rolled his optics but motioned for the mechling to stay where he was while he waded into the thorny plants to begin clearing some space for them to recharge. The mechling investigated the plants and said something in his language giving Ratchet a puzzled look.

"Go help Charging Wind chase down dinner," he said pointing from the mechling to the femme. The mechling looked between Ratchet and Charging Wind before nodding and hopping over to her looking up expectantly. Shooting a glare at Ratchet, she still took the mechling's hand and Rockfall followed. Whistler tiptoed through the thorny ring of plants wincing as the thorns snagged his exoform.

"This is the last time I ever have a good idea," he told Ratchet. "How are you supposed to pull these things up without losing a finger?"

Ratchet's hands were already bleeding from a dozen small cuts. "You don't," he grunted getting his hands close to the ground and pulling another plant up. More cuts opened on his hands. "Don't toss them too far, we can cover ourselves a bit with what we dig up."

Whistler winced as he pulled a plant up. "Charging Wind is right. This is a stupid adventure."

"When this story is told around the fire, I'll make sure everyone remembers you two said that," he said and pulled a thorn from his finger with a soft curse. They each pulled two more plants before the space was as wide as Ratchet's sore hands were going to make it. Sitting down he shook the excess energon off his hands and started digging around the base of a bigger plant hoping whatever water was sustaining the plant hadn't already been drunk up by the soil.

"Found some over here," Whistler called a few breems later. Ratchet dug a bit deeper and also found damp soil. Digging a bit more he pulled back when water began to rise to the top. Leaving the small hole to fill he stood and walked over to where Whistler was digging a much shallower hole to start a fire.

Sitting down Ratchet shook the dirt off his hands and examined some of the cuts. Once they had some water to top off their water skins they could wash their hands and put some salve on them. Ratchet pulled his pack around and pulled out a small piece of twine. Pulling out a knife only as big as his hand he cut a few limbs off one of the uprooted plants and tied them to his pack. "A new weapon?" Whistler asked as he tossed branches from another uprooted plant into the fire.

"Give it a few rechargeless orns, you'll ache more than the old warriors when it's cold," Ratchet told him. "Might as well have some on their way to curing so we can make a good tea one of these nights and not have to feel it." Whistler nodded and looked thoughtfully at the fire.

"Ratchet," he said, "You think those mechs found us last night because of our fire?"

Ratchet stared into the small flames for a few breems, brow furrowed as he thought. "A good possibility," he said. "You want to bank the fire before sunset?" It would be a good way to hide, but it was going to make the night cold on top of uncomfortable and thorny.

"Well, if they come back looking for us, what easier way to find us? There can't be too many others with fires going out here." Whistler shrugged. "So we can get some hot food in us and then settle down for a long, cold, miserable night and see if it works. They'll either show up or they won't." His shoulders fell and he looked at Ratchet irritably. " _That_ is the last good idea I have. Anything more uncomfortable and you can think of it." Ratchet laughed and pulled out his water skin and went to see how much water was in their holes.

By the time the others returned with a bouncing mechling and a bundle of burrow rats Ratchet was resigned to the uncomfortable night. His hands were clean though and their water skins were full and soon their tanks would be too. Charging Wind and Rockfall both looked cheerful as they returned. "Little mech is a sparked hunter," Rockfall said with no shortage of fondness.

"Hit a burrow rat from twenty paces with his little knife," Charging Wind chimed. Ratchet decided he wouldn't ruin their good mood by telling they were banking the fire until after they'd eaten.

But he smiled in happy surprise when he heard what the mechling had pulled off. Burrow rats were fast and lean which made them tough and not very tasty, but also hard to hit. It was their staple during the lean seasons when bigger game was scarce or nonexistent but it was still hard to feed a whole clan on burrow rat. Rockfall, Charging Wind, and the mechling had managed to get five which was impressive since none of them were hunter-warriors and they didn't have a bow.

Charging Wind's good mood soured when Whistler and Ratchet finally told them they wanted to bank the fire, but Rockfall nodded in agreement. "I'll take first watch," Ratchet said. The suns were halfway gone as Charging Wind and Rockfall covered the fire with dirt. It was still warm and would be for a few joors yet so Ratchet got up and found a few good sized stones to ring the buried embers so no one accidentally rolled onto them. Burns were hard enough to treat in Leaping Sand's tent, he didn't want to deal with them out under the sky with some kind of demon mech searching for them.

The mechling curled close to his chest making quiet little sounds of fear the darker it got. Wrapping the little mech in both their blankets he set him down close to the banked fire. He would rather keep the mechling in his lap but if the mechs from last night had mistaken the mechling for a pack he wasn't going to break that illusion. The mechling whimpered quietly but didn't try to climb back into Ratchet's lap. "It's all right, mechling," he said softly as the last rays of light dipped behind the distant Iron Mountains.

Without fire the cold set upon them quickly. They stayed huddled close together and close to the banked coals but no matter how cold or uncomfortable, a long orn of hiking and no recharge the night before put them into recharge within a joor.

Ratchet stared out into the night listening to the clicks, chirps, and hums of nighttime animals rousing themselves. The sounds were normal, the same sounds he'd heard since he took his first breath. It was soothing. No matter what terror he'd seen the night before, nature was still going about its business. His optics flicked up to the sky and the sliver of Namurr's face. In another four or five nights all the moons would be dark. They'd have to have a fire then, just to see if any normal predators were circling, much less the night monsters from last night. They would also have to find some kind of overhead shelter. Without the moons the night demons would be impossible to see until they struck.

It was as he was staring up at the moons trying to think of how close they might be to the Scorpion's Tail during the two nights the moons would be dark that he saw a silhouette against the pale light of Namurr. He froze, not even daring to breathe. Audios straining to hear past the familiar noises of night he waited to hear the telltale _thump_ of something heavy landing. Another silhouette, or the same, passed across the moon going in the other direction.

He kept his head tilted back even when his neck began to ache and his optics hurt from straining to see into the darkness above. Whenever he started to think they had moved on, he'd see a flicker of movement, a wing or a streak of darkness across the moon. He kept utterly still. Like a burrow rat trying to hide from the sharp optics of a saqr, he was certain if he even moved his hand one of them would see. The neck prickling feeling of being stalked made his spark pulse hard and fast. Even as the moons moved past their zenith the flicker of darkness, a shadow darker than the sky continued teasing his optics. Behind him, the mechling recharged blissfully unaware.

When the sky began to change from black to navy blue he chanced moving, just enough to fall to his side and nudge Whistler's foot. The mech woke up and said something but Ratchet was already tumbling into recharge.

It took two tries—and he was pretty sure a slap in the face—to drag himself into the waking world. The suns weren't quite all the way up, but it was late in the morning.

"Why in the name of the ancestors didn't you wake one of us?" Charging Wind snapped. It took a few seconds for the words to process, recharge still clinging to his body like sticky sap.

"They were looking," he said trying to order his thoughts. He needed to get up and they needed to move, now. Dragging himself to his feet he checked the mechling who was awake with his pack on his back and his little staff in hand. Rolling his blanket quickly he stuffed it into his back, glad he'd put everything in order before they'd doused the fire the night before. "I saw them looking. They were up there all night." Shaking himself from head to toe he finally felt at least awake enough to tell the rest the disturbing conclusion he'd come to. "We need to be at Scorpion's Tail before the moons are dark."

Rockfall looked like he was still ready to yell at Ratchet for not rotating the watch but blinked and said, "We can do it, but it might require a run mornings and evenings. Why?"

"Whistler was right, they were looking for our fire last night. That's why they didn't land. But there's no way we can watch for anything without fire when the moons are gone. That's a four orns out. We need to be at Scorpion's Tail where at least we can find an overhang or rocks to hide the light." The others stilled and Charging Wind's optics widened before she started cursing. All around them flat desert stretched.

Rockfall looked back at him, face set in hard lines. "Then we'll need to start traveling before the suns rise and hope they'll be on their way back to whatever pit they crawled from and won't see us." Charging Wind and Whistler nodded. "Let's go," the old warrior said.

Ratchet picked the mechling up and held him until they were out of the circle of thorny plants. The mechling took hold of his cloak and looked up at him worriedly as they started walking toward the mountains. "I'm all right mechling, not the first time I've gone without recharge," he murmured. Charging Wind glared at him over her shoulder but didn't say anything. He was too tired to try and explain to them the feeling he'd had during the night, that if he'd moved even a little he would've been seen. He could only hope the night monsters would be thrown off enough by not finding them last night that they would search in another direction as they moved under the moons the next morning.

The mountains still seemed just as distant as they had been when the journey started while the last moon seemed to be disappearing faster than it ever had before. They moved as long as they could before exhaustion caught them and they all but collapsed, never lighting a fire, but so tired they didn't feel the cold. When the sun was still distant on the horizon the mechling would wake Ratchet who would drag himself to his feet and wake the others and they started the trek again as Namurr's crescent grew smaller and smaller.

 **oOo**

 **A/N:** Oh boy, oh boy! I'm currently back in the States and the weather here is lovely so not a lot of writing getting done while there are flowers to plant.

Thank you for reading and reviewing! Have a great Spring :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Scorpion's Tail**

 _In the time of the great battles between the gods; monsters and titans escaped their bonds and left the gods' realm for ours. One of the great monsters that came down was a scorpion. Each of its legs was a warrior high and its claws were strong enough to crush stone. Its tail arched so high over its back it cast a shadow half the size of the suns._

 _Roaming the land it found a quiet cave that happened to have a spring bubbling up in it. It was the same spring many clans used for it was the only water farther than the optic could see in any direction. The greedy scorpion settled into the cave and attacked any who came for water._

 _Dying from thirst, warriors from three different clans came together to plan a way to kill or drive out the monster. The scorpion could not turn easily and there were many narrow places in the cave where the monster could be trapped and made vulnerable to bolts and spears. One young warrior stepped forward. "I am the swiftest of my clan, I will lead it down the narrow passage." The warriors were not fond of this idea for it would mean sacrificing a young warrior whose clan had already lost many to thirst and heat. "If my life is what will allow my clan and yours to bear many more generations, then it is not that great a price to pay." And though they worked through the long night they could not come up with another plan._

 _As the suns rose the young warrior picked up his spear and approached the cave where the scorpion was just beginning to settle in to recharge for the orn. The young warrior crept in and when he was close enough to touch the scorpion he whacked it hard with his spear and ran deeper into the cave calling, "Ho there, big bug, you are not so fierce after all!"_

 _Furious the scorpion twisted around and ran into the cave after him its massive tail snapping forward trying to spear him. "For that insult you will die slow," it shrieked. So focused on catching the warrior it didn't pay attention to the cave walls and how they narrowed and squeezed him in tighter and tighter._

 _The young warrior rounded a corner and the scorpion found itself wedged tight within the cave. Snapping its claws forward it tried to crush the exhausted warrior but he was just out of reach leaning on his spear. From behind the scorpion the other warriors rushed forward with their spears and bolts with a loud battle cry and began attacking._

 _The scorpion's body well protected and even trapped as he was the warriors could not pierce it to reach his spark. "You little fools, you think I am trapped here," the monster hissed. Instead of trying to strike the warriors with its tail it instead battered the roof dropping great stones down._

" _Its legs, its legs!" the young warrior shouted. He ran forward, ignoring the great crushing claws and instead of striking the monster's body he jammed his spear into one of its legs pinning it to the floor. The scorpion struck with its tail and speared the young warrior._

" _You are only the first of your clan to die. All of your clans will die for this insult." The warriors ignored his words and did as the young warrior had and jammed their spears through the monster's legs even as the ceiling fell and crushed them. The scorpion's hard body kept it safe from the falling stones as the warriors lie dead and buried around him. "Fools, all of you," it hissed. "I will hunt your clans until the end of time, none will survive!" But as it tried to lift itself out of the collapsed cave it found itself stuck fast by the spears the warriors had put through its legs. Its great crushing claws could not reach around to break the stones or pull out the spears and its tail was a good spear, but not useful for digging._

 _As the suns set on the fifth orn after the battle the scorpion's thirst finally overcame it and it died. The spring was once again free to all. The three clans had lost so many both from thirst and the great battle that had saved them they became one and called themselves Scorpions. As the ages passed the only thing that remained of the scorpion was its hard body and high tail that slowly turned to stone._

 **oOo**

Too little food and water and even less recharge caught up to Ratchet as he set optics for the first time on the fabled Scorpion's Tail. Red Spool had terrified and awed them with the story of its making since Ratchet could remember. The great pile of stones did look a bit like a flattened scorpion, but it was the arch of tapering rock shadowing the ground in the setting light that made him believe the old story might be true. Cast bronze by the evening sun he could see how the tip of the arch looked like the wicked spear tip of a scorpion tail. Gnarled short trees grew from a few of the crevices like the ends of spears.

"Really does look like a monster, doesn't it?" Whistler said pausing to catch his breath and look at the rock pile. Rockfall glanced at it and a tired laugh huffed out of him. Ratchet had no idea how far the old warrior had travelled in his younger orns or if he had seen the landmark before. He didn't seem overly interested in it save for looking for a good campsite so he may well have ventured this far when he was young and bold.

The old warrior led the way straight up to the rocks. "At least this monster's dead," he said, knocking against the rocks a few times to scare out a few tiny scorpions and a thueban. The mechling held tight to Ratchet's leg when the creatures scattered from their hidey holes. The little mech had pushed himself like a warrior three times his age and exhaustion marked every line of his body.

"It'll be shelter enough for a few nights," Ratchet said using conscious thought to keep himself balanced on his feet. He felt like the ground was moving below him and a few times he caught himself with his optics closed when he thought he'd just been blinking. The other three nodded and dropped their packs and then their bodies to the ground. The mechling let go of Ratchet's leg and crawled over to small space between Rockfall and a boulder. Ratchet thought he might've been in recharge before he was done crawling.

Rockfall gently scooted the mechling around so he wouldn't wake sore from sleeping odd and pulled his cloak up around him a bit more. "He's done his ancestors proud with all this," the old warrior said softly. "Can't think of many younglings that would get through even half of what he's done."

"Should we wake him to eat?" Charging Wind asked, dragging her pack to her lap to find food and water. Ratchet sluggishly mirrored her movements. He was more tired than hungry, but if they had to suddenly move in the night it would be best he have some food in him to give his body an extra boost.

"He's small enough he can eat while one of us carries him, he needs recharge more than anything," Rockfall said decisively. The other three didn't contest it. Ratchet was too tired to think through it but he had a gut feeling most of that was true so he let it pass. Whistler and Charging Wind only knew the basics about little ones from their early vorns as warriors tasked with keeping the youngest out of trouble. Or at least managing the trouble. Whistler hadn't lasted long on that duty since he was more apt to find the trouble than keep anyone out of it.

They all tore into pieces of dried meat and drank water in silence until the worst of the hunger had been taken care of. Ratchet felt both more awake and even more exhausted having food in him. "Ratchet, get some recharge, you can take last shift," Rockfall said. Another night, he might've argued. As it was, he was in recharge before his head hit the ground.

It felt like his optics had only just closed when he felt someone shaking him awake. It took almost a full breem for him to drag himself into consciousness. Above the stars were painted across the sky in great brushstrokes tinted pale, pale green and purple. He lifted his head just in time to see Whistler collapse on his bedroll. The wind moaned softly across the arid landscape deepening the pre-dawn chill. He made certain the mechling's blanket was snug around him before he forced his achy body to stand. Unlike previous nights when the wind and alkilab sang the mechling didn't stir at all.

Looking up at the arch of rocks, darker than the star bright sky above he tried to imagine fighting a beast of that size. Every warrior liked to think they would be brave like the young warrior who led the scorpion into the trap but with real monsters hunting them in the darkness, Ratchet wasn't certain if he was as brave as he thought.

Turning away from the rock pile he looked into the darkness beyond their tiny camp. The starlight was just bright enough to show the shadows of intermittent scraggily bushes and jagged rocks that made up this part of the landscape. There were no strange winged silhouettes though and his plates didn't rise in primitive warning like they did when the shadow namurr stalked. The night was quiet and benign and all the more frightening for it. Those strange creatures were out there somewhere searching for them. No matter how normal everything sounded there were monsters more frightening than the pile of rocks behind him. And he didn't know if he had the strength to fight them. Glancing down at the mechling curled up in his blanket looking peaceful for the first time since they left the Saqr camp he looked back at the high stone arch. Those warriors hadn't charged into the monster's cave because they were bored. Their clans had been at risk of dying, many of them already had. The mechling wasn't an entire clan, but Ratchet had claimed guardianship over him. In taking him from the dead camp he had made a promise on his honor that—no matter what—he would always find a way to be brave.

It wasn't until the suns were well and truly on their way to rising—the sky brushed periwinkle and rose—that Ratchet gave in and lay down again. The morning boasted no strange sounds and the insects continued their morning serenade as the birds began to wake and join them. He didn't recharge as deep, his body unaccustomed to recharging past the first streaks of dawn, but that suited him. He was still vaguely aware of the different sounds and comings and goings of animals preparing for another painfully hot orn. It was in this half-dreaming state that he heard the far cry of something that didn't belong. It wasn't enough to pull him fully from his doze but it sent a cold flush of condensation across his frame. The shrill howling sound was faint and sounded more like an echo than the origin, but it was there.

Forcing his optics open he didn't move but stared at the purple and pink streaked sky. All but the brightest stars were gone. His tanks churned whether from hunger or fear he wasn't certain. The sky was bright enough the shadow monsters should have been well into hiding.

"Did you hear it?" Charging Wind asked. "They've never stayed out this late before," her voice was almost covered by the swell of insect music, the tiny creatures not feeling the danger from where they were.

"The moons will be their darkest tomorrow night," Ratchet answered just as softly. "The sky will be dark save for the ancestors and they are not very bright. If they are monsters sparked in darkness they are only going to get bolder and stronger."

Rockfall sat up slowly as if he was testing to make sure his body remembered how to do such actions. "This orn we hunt whatever we can find and smoke what we can't eat. We need to make sure we have enough to eat as we run and we need to make sure our water skins are well and full." His voice was rougher from recharge but sounded strong and confident.

Ratchet nodded in agreement. "It will take two orns to smoke the meat properly, we'll have to be very careful about the fire tonight." They would be vulnerable staying where they were, but they couldn't run without food or—more importantly—without water.

Charging Wind pushed herself up with a soft curse and stretched her fingers and toes. "A risk we must take. If we find something now it will be that much closer to being done come nightfall. Ratchet took two slow breaths to commit himself to waking and then pushed himself to a sitting and then standing position in a series of jerky movements. The mechling made a soft sound but when no one tried to wake him he settled back into dreams. Looking at Charging Wind and then the rocky landscape he checked his daggers. They weren't the best for hunting, but he could make them work.

"Let's hunt."

 **oOo**

Four plump burrow rats and one stringy suhulia roasted over the coals just as the suns began to touch the horizon. The shriek they heard so late in the morning had them all a little nervous but their dinner was almost done. They had opted to bury their smoked meat in coals on the other side of the scorpion under a shallow overhang. The coals would cool during the night and unless the wind really kicked up there would be nothing to fan them. It was still a risk, but they still had to eat even if the night monsters didn't.

"Let's have a look at the map while it's still light," Whistler said. "Maybe we can come up with a shortcut to the next landmark."

"Shortcuts are a quick way to the ancestors, mechling," Rockfall said testing the suhulia's doneness. He pulled the stick away from the coals and set it to the side to cool a bit. "We don't have a clear idea of where we're going and none of us has ever seen these places before. If we come at something from the wrong angle we may not recognize it and go right past it." He knocked his knuckles against the scorpion's stones. "This was the easy one. Not many rocks this big out here, but places like Star Catcher Hill? There's a bunch'a hills around that, the only way you know its Star Catcher's is because if you look at it from the east. There's a big spread of white sand running down the hill, like a star broke apart on it." Whistler sighed and leaned back against the warm boulder behind him.

Ratchet reached into the pack anyway. "We can still take a look so we know where we're going. No reason for us to wait around once that meat cooks. Hot as it was this orn and with those coals it could be done not long after mid-orn tomorrow." The mechling perked up when he saw the map out. Charging Wind checked the burrow rats and pulled them off the fire while Rockfall held the suhulia out to the mechling.

Wide opticked he took the proffered food with a hesitant hand. Rockfall chuckled roughly. "Don't eat many suhulias where you're from, do ye'?" Ratchet smiled a bit as he watched the mechling hesitantly take a bite of the strange new food. It didn't take long for him to decide he enjoyed it and he happily started munching on it in earnest.

"Don't burn yourself," Ratchet said as he unrolled the breathtaking map. His mind had forgotten how stunning it was and the rich golden-orange light of the setting suns added a new dimension to the shimmering stones. The diamonds that usually looked like ice were now aflame as if the mountains were instead massive wildfires, the sapphires in the river deep blue with highlights of gold and the glorious ambers and topazes of the desert were a scintillating spread that seemed to roll and gallop under his hands. "Ancestors," he breathed. The others were silent too taking in the masterpiece in Ratchet's hands.

Charging Wind cleared her throat and picked up one of the burrow rats. "Well, let's get too it, we don't have all night." Ratchet was ready to tear into hot food as well, but he didn't dare while the map was unrolled in his lap. The delicious grease from the burrow rat wouldn't harm his hands but the creamy white hide would be ruined, the gemstones smudged.

Whistler came up on his other side, also forgoing dinner for the moment. "We're here," he said pointing to the stylized pile of amber that made Scorpion's Tail. Running his finger along the stones he found the closest landmark, an odd streak of pure white moonstone. "Moon River. I know Red Spool has a story about that, but I don't really remember what it is."

"I do," Ratchet said softly. "I'll tell it when we're closer. It'll keep the little one's mind off things." As it was, the mechling was looking at the map with a great deal of anxiety. He pointed to Namurr's Head and said a few words in his soft language. Ratchet didn't recognize any of them, though they hadn't had much of a chance to play their game the last septorn.

Shaking his head he pointed to Scorpion's Tail. "No mechling, we're right here." The mechling looked confused and looked at the horizon at the vast landscape they had come across. And where, somewhere hidden, the night monsters would be beginning to wake. "It's all right, we're not lost," Ratchet murmured. They had no way of knowing how direct a path his clan had taken since they were unfamiliar with the desert. Stroking the top of his head the mechling made a low purring sound and took another bite of his suhulia. "I'll keep you safe," Ratchet said softly. "Get ready for recharge; it'll be another cold night." The mechling recognized the word for recharge and his frightened optics turned once to the suns half gone behind the horizon.

Re-folding the map and stashing it away safely Ratchet and Whistler finally devoured their dinner. Rockfall watched the suns creep toward the horizon with a hard look on his face. "Those things know they're most likely to catch us the next two nights. Stay sharp during watch," he said.

Ratchet added, "Don't move around too much. We don't know what they see or how they see but if they are like the hunting birds then movement is what they'll be drawn to." His body still ached at the memory of that long night he had stared at the sky watching their silhouettes cross the moons. Charging Wind and Whistler nodded. He didn't think either of them would be getting much recharge, but he still said he'd take first watch. The mechling curled tight in his cloak nestled in among the packs watching the last of the blazing colors fade into the soft velvet of night.

He found a comfortable position against a rock as the others drifted into fitful recharge and stared out into the darkness. His hand on the hilt of a dagger didn't calm him like it had so many times before. No matter that he'd cut the winged creature and Rockfall's steady confidence that they could be killed; he didn't know _how_ they could be killed. Just because something bled didn't mean a knife through the spark or a cut to the throat would kill it. He would welcome a challenge from an alkalb if only to give the illusion that he could overcome an enemy. His mind drifted back to what Arrow had said to him, that he wanted to know he was useful, that he could do something. Glancing at the mechling he leaned his head back and sighed. The night stayed quiet, no strange howls or shrieks. And yet every time he looked up he found the sky black save for the ancestors. They could be flying over him as he stared and he wouldn't know it until they were upon him.

The dark moons also made time harder to tell and he thought he'd probably been awake longer than he was supposed to, but with a long hot orn ahead of them free from travel he figured he could make time for a quick nap. Whistler woke so easily Ratchet knew he hadn't recharged well. Still he sat up and rubbed his optics and Ratchet lay down near the mechling hoping he could coax his overworked processor into recharge.

He didn't know how long he dozed skipping from nightmare to nightmare until the echo of a howl jerked him into waking. Stifling every instinct he had to leap to his feet and draw a weapon he opened his optics and looked around. None of the others were standing either. Charging Wind's hands were caught mid-motion where she'd been retying the lashing on her stave. The night was almost over, the horizon no longer fathomless black but brushed with deep purple.

"How close?" Whistler whispered.

Charging Wind remained motionless but answered, "I don't know, but it was louder than the one yesterorn. If they're moving in this direction they'll find us by midnight." Ratchet's optics scanned the dark sky but it was as useless as it had been while he'd been on watch. The subtle change of colors on the horizon didn't make anything any brighter.

"They might be trying to flush us out," Rockfall said softly. "If we spook and run and can't find decent shelter tomorrow night we'll be easy to find." Ratchet didn't enjoy being chased like a game animal. His fins lifted slightly in aggravation. The howl came again; high, wild, and furious.

"We need to hide ourselves better tonight," Whistler said. "We can dig out some of these rocks and maybe roll them into place again once the suns are down. If we can do that we won't need the fire. Not even a pack of alkilab can move a boulder." Ratchet liked the idea. If they could make it work they'd be impossible to see from the sky and the ground. But if the creatures figured out or assumed they were backtracking the original clan's path it wouldn't matter. They would know what places the clan had stopped. Moon River would be obvious from the sky, as would some of the others. Like the clan releasing their beasts of burden, they needed to muddy the trail more.

"I'm going out this orn," he said softly. "As soon as it's light enough. I'm going to set decoy camps." He would have to run through the orn to make sure they were far enough, but if he could get them to take off in the wrong direction for even a few joors that was a few joors closer to sunrise they'd make it.

The horizon slowly lightened, the suns taking their time to wake up this morning but the howl didn't come again. Still, none of them moved and none fell back into recharge. "You'll be exhausted," Charging Wind said breaking the silence. "And I doubt you could get far enough away to give us breathing room." Ratchet knew he would be pushing himself hard to make the decoy camp, but Charging Wind had said herself they'd be found before midnight if the creatures were moving in their direction.

Whistler sighed with a hint of hiss rasping the back of his throat. Ratchet usually associated the sound with something ridiculous North Wind had done. "She's right, Ratchet. The decoy is something that we should've thought of four nights ago, but as it is now you'll be too close. Once they realize it's not a real camp they'll know we're within an orn's travel of it. It does nothing but narrow down their search." His foot twitched like he wanted to get up or kick something. "But we need to do something or they'll find us anyway. Cursed moons," he spat. "And even when Raider's Night is through, Alffar is the first to wake. It might as well be another ancestor." The smallest moon, Alffar cast so little light Ratchet had to agree with Whistler. There was a good chance they would still need a fire for the next few nights until Suhilia also woke.

"And so we're back to where we started," Rockfall sighed. Rust red brushed the horizon but still none of them moved. "I think hiding ourselves in the rocks is our best option now. We don't know how often those things land. If they only fly over, we can hide signs of our camp well enough they won't be tempted to come down. They know we need fire these nights, that's what they'll be searching for."

"Gods and ancestors, who knew adventures had this much planning in them," Whistler grumbled. Ratchet rolled his optics but Charging Wind laughed.

Once the first golden crest of the suns cleared the horizon, the warriors got to work. The mechling, looking exhausted despite his early recharge time scooted out of the way and watched them work with his head cocked to the side. They didn't have any digging tools with them so they were left with the hard blunt claws on their hands and feet to move soil and small rocks.

"I hope this scorpion is actually dead and we don't accidentally free it," Whistler panted as he and Ratchet rolled a large boulder clear. Behind it, the rocks were cool and dry as they day became hotter and hotter. Charging Wind and Rockfall loosened another boulder and heaved it out of the way. The shallow hole they had now was just big enough for two of them to squeeze in. Ratchet looked at the rising suns and the other rocks that needed to be moved. Shaking the dust off his arms, he and Whistler started digging around the next stone.

The mechling figured out what they were doing pretty quick, but the warriors were leery of letting him help given his small size. Instead he'd found another way to be useful. Gathering up their water skins he'd prowled around the rocks until he found the small spring and set to refilling them as often as needed. After the suns moved off their peak the mechling scampered off again but didn't return as quickly as he had before. Ratchet paused in his digging to scan the desert for the small mech.

"What is it? Did you see something?" Charging Wind asked. The dark fabric around her chest and hips was pale brown from dust that blew off with the hard gusts of wind. Never far from reach, she picked up her stave while Whistler reached for his dual swords.

"The mechling isn't back yet. He's not taken this long before," Ratchet said optics on the faint outline of the mechling's prints. Hand on a knife he walked surefooted on the tumbled rocks leading to the spring bubbling up from the ground. Hidden well by tumbled boulders the water did not stay long on the surface. If not for the quiet splash of water, it could be confused for a small puddle. It wasn't the large pools he'd heard some of the southern tribes used during the Lean Season, but it was enough to keep the burrow rats and namurrs alive.

There was no sign or sound of the mechling at the spring. He didn't see any fresh claw marks from namurr or any energon. Climbing to the top of a boulder he scanned the landscape again but the mechling was nowhere in sight.

Rockfall joined him at the rocks. "He can't have gone too far," he said softly. "Or have been taken too far." He withdrew two sickle shaped blades from the sheaths on his back. Whistler took care not to let his blades catch the light as he prowled around the rocks. Ratchet only pulled one dagger, he preferred to have one hand free to grab. Stepping down into the cool mud around the spring he found the mechling's footprints slowly being washed away by the tiny ripples of water.

"These come and go in the same direction," he said softly. He saw no sign of larger feet from either mech or beast. Lifting one foot to see how far he'd sunk into the ground he bared his teeth angrily. If a mech had grabbed the mechling they had to have done it standing on the rocks, the water would erase the mechling's light prints before the suns set, but his deep track would remain for orns.

Whistler touched his shoulder and pointed to the other side of the spring. "Not all of them, I see one deeper than the others. He must have jumped over the water." Ratchet saw the gleam of mud he had missed in his first overview. Keeping in a low hunting crouch both he and Whistler advanced on the tumbled rocks. Closer, he saw the shadows in places were deeper than others. The mechling's light prints led them to one such crevice.

"An opening?" Ratchet asked softly. Neither one of them could fit through the narrow gap, but it would be just big enough for a mechling to slither through. Charging Wind might be able to force herself through if they dug it out a bit more but none of the broad shouldered mechs would make it no matter how much they dug. He and Whistler stilled their intakes, audios straining for any small sound the mechling might make.

"He's been nervous around these rocks, I can't see him idly crawling into this dark place," Whistler said after a moment. Ratchet nodded, but from what he could see there were no tracks leading out of the rocks.

Charging Wind lightly touched his back, letting him know she was close. "Anything?" she whispered. "That's not a shadow." She leaned forward to get a better look at the crevice and then looked at the ground. Before she could say anything else, a quiet scrape caught all their attention. Charging Wind withdrew enough she wouldn't hinder an attack while Ratchet and Whistler both pulled to opposite sides of the crevice. Another quiet sound and then a dark shadow flew from the crevice and landed near the spring with a deep thud. Ratchet steeled himself from flinching and kept his attention on the shadowed space by his leg. He trusted Charging Wind and Rockfall could take down whatever had just left the cave, he and Whistler couldn't afford to get distracted.

A second later a small head popped out of the darkness. He appeared for only a spark pulse before he saw Whistler and Ratchet poised with weapons and jerked back into the crevice with a frightened squeak.

"Gods and ancestors, mechling!" Ratchet called, sheathing his knife. Whistler let out a slow breath and sheathed his swords, stepping back a few paces. "Mechling," Ratchet tried again trying to soften his voice. Crouching down in front of the crevice again he saw the faint glow of frightened gemstone optics looking back at him. "Come out, little one. We're not going to hurt you. You can't disappear like that. I know you're frightened of the night monsters but there are much more mundane things out here that won't hesitate to make a meal out of you." While he spoke the mechling crawled forward again still looking afraid. Once he was out though Ratchet scooped him up and walked back into the light to look him over.

"I think he wanted to surprise us," Rockfall said as Ratchet gave the little mech a thorough check.

"Well, he certainly did that," Whistler said.

Charging Wind held up a catch of burrow rats tied together. "Surprise us with dinner. He must've seen one go into the cave and followed it." Ratchet finally stepped back from the mechling who no longer looked frightened but a little sheepish. Ratchet stroked the top of his head and sighed, finally convinced the little mech wasn't harmed.

Rockfall jumped up onto a rock. "Well, we have our camp dug and the mechling has gotten us dinner. Let's get a fire and get ready to hide for the night. We'll need to take extra care to douse the fire and give the embers time to cool."

Ratchet picked the mechling up and set him on a rock. "Thank you, little one. But find a way to let us know next time." The mechling took his hand as they walked back to their camp, a little skip in his step.

 **oOo**

The night seemed colder than ever before as Ratchet huddled in his shallow cave. The mechling, wrapped tight in his cloak and Ratchet's, pressed tight to his side shivering. Whether the little mech was cold or fearful it was impossible to tell. Before the suns were even half gone they had wiped their campsite from the desert and rolled the heavy stones into place. No one had spoken in that time and Ratchet's imagination toyed with the idea that he was all alone. Without sight of the stars wheeling overhead, Ratchet didn't think the darkness would ever end.

Silence reigned through the night, only the wind was brave enough to frolic about. No alkilab or insects chorused. The wind whispered and moaned across the sand and through the rock crevices until it sounded like the great dead scorpion was whispering in his audio.

So dark in their little hole he didn't realize he had dozed off until an angry howl jolted him from restless dreams. He only just managed to curb the instinct to lash out at the darkness around him. Now even the wind was cowed, its constant caress diminished, as the howl came again. He didn't know from what direction it came, but the rage in it rattled his struts. He kept his intakes quiet, breathing through his mouth as fear coursed through his lines like venom. If the creatures found them they would be trapped. He might lash out at one, but he was stiff from being curled in the hole and they would have the upper ground. If one of the others was attacked none of them would get free in time to aid.

He could swear he heard wingbeats, though it could have been his spark galloping in his chest. Not even in the thick of battle, not even when he watched Bright Star fall, had he felt such fear. They were trapped. And with nothing but the hope and fervent prayers to the ancestors that the night monsters didn't find them, Ratchet wanted Leaping Sand with him. He wanted to be safe within her tent surrounded by his clan. He wanted to be _safe_.

The screech came again closer than it had been since they started running and the mechling gave a hard jerk before clinging harder to Ratchet, trying to burrow deeper into his side. Whatever Ratchet's fear, he was still a grown warrior. The small mech pressed against him had been through more terror in his short life than Ratchet might ever know. Ratchet swallowed and tried to steady his spark pulse. He had no room for fear. He could not return to Leaping Sand's tent, he could not have the feeling of safety he craved, but he could give all he could to the young mech. Tightening his arm around him he glared at the darkness as the night monsters howled.

 **oOo**

 **A/N:** Originally this was going to be one big chapter but I think this journey needs some breathing room. Also, did I tell y'all this would be a slow update? I've really gone out on a limb here and have to read the chapters a few times over for continuity because—yet again—I've written some of them out of order or changed things in the beginning that have now changed things coming up. Writing is exhausting.

But, thank you for Reading/Reviewing/Following/Favoriting!


	6. Chapter 6

**Moon River**

 _Once, when there were only a few ancestors in the sky, the god of venom, Sma, fell in love. The femme he loved was a quiet weaver who made such beautiful and wondrous things even the great howling winds could be stilled watching her work. Sma wanted the weaver as his bondmate so that she might make such beautiful things for his creatures, the thueban and scorpions that roam the land._

 _He appeared within the camp, a great god in a cloak spun from moonlight with jewels and gems so rich with color those who looked directly at them were cursed to forever see the rest of the world in dull shades of grey. The young weaver sat at the edge of the camp overlooking a tiny stream while she worked. A spider told Sma where to find her and the great god appeared next to her. "You are the finest weaver ever sparked. Your skill stills even the winds. I will give you the finest cloth, the brightest colors, and you, as my bondmate, will make lovely cloaks for my creatures."_

 _The femme was frightened. For while Sma was dressed splendidly, the god of venom had a terrifying face; his optics slitted as a thueban and fangs that dripped golden drops of venom whenever he spoke. His body not covered by his cloak was hard and shiny as a scorpion's thick shell._

" _Your offer is generous, great god, and I will gladly make cloaks for your creatures," the femme said, "but I already have a bondmate and I must refuse."_

 _Sma sighed, the sound a dangerous rasping hiss. "That is most unfortunate." And with that, the god vanished as quickly as he appeared. The femme sat shaking among the brilliant colors of her work and when her strength returned, she ran all the way back to her tent to her bondmate._

 _Sma was not so easily dissuaded, though. He paced in his realm trying to think of something to lure the weaver away from her bondmate. The young wind goddess, Yunfakh, watched him and said,"Dear brother, she does not have to be your bondmate to make lovely cloaks for your creatures." Yunfakh, fell in love with a different mortal every orn, though and Sma ignored her words._

 _He paced and thought for two orns until he decided on a plan. "She did not want jewels or cloth, so I will have to give her something more precious than even that." He called to his creatures and found a cahm thueban near the camp._

 _Deep in the night when even the moons were tired, the cahm thueban wound its way through the camp. The warriors awake and guarding the camp didn't see its dull colors as it slithered through. The cahm thueban came to the weaver's tent and slipped inside. It struck the weaver's bondmate, the pain from the venom so terrible, the bondmate woke with a shriek._

 _The cahm thueban left, unseen in the panic and in its place, Sma appeared. "The bite is deep and the poison is strong," he told the weaver. "But I can fix it. All I ask is that you be my bondmate and make lovely cloaks for my creatures."_

 _The young weaver held her bondmate and wept. "You are as vile as your creatures." Her bondmate's spark beginning to fade, she told Sma, "I will be your bondmate, until I die." Sma thought this a good promise since he intended to make her immortal so that she could make lovely cloaks for all his creatures, great and small._

 _Sma placed his hand over the bite and golden venom seeped from the wound. "Your healers can help her regain her strength, and now you will come with me." Holding her bondmate tight a moment longer to make sure her life was not still slipping away, the weaver eventually stood._

" _I must gather my tools," she told the god._

 _Sma scoffed, "I will get you the finest tools and the finest threads and cloths you have ever seen."_

 _The weaver said, "If I am to leave and never see my home again, I would like to have something to remember it." Having heard of other mortals made bondmates, Sma thought about this and decided she was right. He stepped aside and let her leave the tent._

 _Once she was outside, she started running. She ran through the camp as fast as she could while the god Sma waited for her return. Sma, in the tent, thought about what she had said a little more and grew troubled. Why would she need to leave the tent to gather her tools? He hissed, spitting golden drops of venom. Calling to his creatures, he demanded they find the weaver. His fury at being outsmarted turned his slitted optics fire red and he was a terrifying sight storming out of the tent._

 _A scorpion spotted the young weaver as she reached the edge of the camp. Sma appeared in front of her, still hissing and spitting. "No mortal can hide from me, nor can you run. You will be my bondmate, even if you are in chains!"_

" _I promised to be your bondmate," she said breathlessly, "but only until I died." She ran, not away from the god, but at him, to the edge of the cliff. She ran and jumped as far as she could. None of Sma's creatures are winged and so none could stop her as she fell. She plunged to the rocky shallow river below._

 _Hissing in fury, Sma returned to the tent and killed the weaver's bondmate. "You will never join the ancestors, your spark will roam forever in pieces." Shattering her spark, he cast them into the wind._

 _Yunfakh of the Wind, caught the pieces and while she could not break Sma's curse, she did call to the small winged insects. Some were frightened of the dark where they couldn't see the large hungry creatures searching for them. "I will help you light the dark," she told the creatures. When they gathered, she gave each of them a piece of the bondmate's shattered spark. With the softly pulsing light, the small insects took flight and while they scattered to the four corners once more, they did so with hope and joy._

 _Sma turned his attention to the weaver that had twice outsmarted him. Still in a rage, he cursed her spark as well. "If you will not join me in the sky, you will not join the ancestors either. Your spark will never leave this river and you can look to the heavens and know you will never see your people or home again."_

 _The moon guardians, did not approve of Sma and what he had done to the sparks they were to watch over. When he returned to his realm, the moons set to collecting the shattered spark pieces. "Please don't," the spark whispered as she was gathered. "If my bondmate cannot reach the ancestors, then I will stay with her." Many of the winged insects gathered by the river, for with their light and now the river's light, they could see there was nothing lurking beneath to gobble them up. And so the moon guardians withdrew and the weaver and her bondmate, their sparks shattered and cursed, stayed together._

 **oOo**

Wind drove sand against them like a thousand scorpion stings. Heads down, the warriors pushed forward as the storm steadily grew worse. The mechling curled against Ratchet's chest wrapped in a blanket to keep the fine sand out of his intakes. Whistler coughed twice for every intake he took. At the front, Charging Wind was only a shadow staggering through the sand. Using the butt of her staff to navigate the land, the others kept to a rough diamond shape behind her.

Ratchet had never seen Moon River for himself, but the ledge the weaver threw herself from was as famous as the river itself. If any of them stumbled off the edge they would be joining the young weaver. They'd taken a risk in pressing on when the winds changed, hoping the river was closer. They had guessed Moon River was nine orns of travel from Scorpion's Tail. Still pushing hard, they had been hoping to cut that down by an orn or two. Still, on their tenth orn of travel they hadn't found Moon River. If they didn't find it soon they would have to bed down until the storm passed.

To his right, Rockfall's shadow flailed and disappeared at the same moment Charging Wind barked a warning. "Rockfall," Ratchet shouted into the wind. Instinct was to move quickly, but the sand was thick enough he could hardly see his feet anymore. Testing each step, he found the edge close to where Rockfall's shadow had disappeared. "Rockfall?" he yelled again. Shaking sand off he knelt by the ledge, keeping one hand on the crumbling rock. An answering bark came from beneath him. Setting the bundled mechling to the side, Ratchet stretched out flat on his chest and reached down as far as he could, feeling along the rocky cliff face.

His hand bumped against Rockfall's and he followed it down to his wrist, gripping tightly. Rockfall's free hand clamped on his arm and Ratchet started dragging him up a little at a time. Whistler and Charging Wind called for them. The sharp barks their clan used to call each other cut through better than names. Ratchet answered and gave two sharp barks of warning.

Rockfall was almost high enough to grab the ledge himself when Charging Wind and Whistler found them. Blunt claws dug into his hips and strong hands gripped his shoulders to drag him back. Rockfall's shadowy head came up over the ledge and he used his free hand to help pull himself all the way up. Charging Wind and Whistler let him go and he got to his knees.

The mechling's little bundle looked like the shadow of a large rock. Picking him up again he scooted back into the tiny circle the others had made. "Are you hurt, Rockfall?" he asked the old warrior.

"A few scrapes and a few seasons of life scared out of my spark," the warrior said over the wind. Ratchet wouldn't be happy until he could look the warrior over, but trusted Rockfall wouldn't try to hide something serious.

"We can't find a way down until this storm ends," Charging Wind yelled. Shaking sand off her shoulders she coughed a few times. The orn darkened to twilight as the spark of the storm moved in.

Whistler said, "We have a rope, we can anchor it and climb down."

"We have no idea how far down the river is," Ratchet argued. "If the rope only reaches halfway the fall might not kill but it will break struts."

"Dig in, warriors, this may last through the night," Rockfall said. And if it did, hopefully the night monsters would be forced to hide as well. The group put more distance between them and the ledge. Ratchet dug a shallow hole within a handspan of the others. Curling around the mechling, he pulled his cloak over his face and settled in to wait out the storm.

Ten orns of hard travel caught up with him not long after he was comfortable and he recharged deep and dreamless. He didn't realize he'd fallen into recharge until the mechling's fidgeting woke him. Blinking sand from his optics he listened to the silence. The mechling wriggled around until his face was uncovered and gave Ratchet a questioning look. The little mech also looked well rested and Ratchet gave him a small smile.

He didn't throw his cloak off, but instead slowly lifted it, letting sand trickle in. No light filtered in and he lowered his arm. "Night, heiyan," he said, practicing one of the mechling's words. The mechling cowered against him and stilled. Ratchet stroked his back and made a soft rumbling sound to soothe him. "Back to recharge, mechling, when we wake again, the suns will be bright," he murmured. The mechling rested his head against Ratchet's spark and let his optics drift closed.

He didn't recharge as deeply and when the others began to rustle and fuss he opened his optics. It was still dark under his cloak but when he lifted his arm again bright spears of sunlight poured in. The mechling's head popped up when he saw the sun and he tried to get loose from his blanket. Ratchet sat up, knocking sand away and helped the little mech get unwrapped. Shaking himself from cephalic fins to toes he looked around at the open land around them. Shrubs and high spikes of Suhulia Tail were buried halfway up their stalks. Whistler was up and stretching his back while Charging Wind rubbed sand from her optics. Rockfall sat up last, a little stiff, but Ratchet didn't see any energon on his cloak.

"This old body can't take falls like it used to," he grumbled as he slowly got to his feet.

"If that was true you'd be at the bottom of this cliff," Whistler said cheerfully. Charging Wind whacked the back of his legs with the butt of her stave. Rockfall huffed a laugh.

Ratchet shook as much sand off as he could. Above the suns blazed in a clear sky and the wind was a gentle caress, no evidence of the violence it had wielded the orn before. "Have we checked how far down it is?" he asked, voice rough from recharge and the sand he hadn't coughed out yet.

"I did," Whistler said. "And Rockfall was on the right path, even if he was a little overzealous." He dodged Charging Wind's strike and stayed out of range. "The rocks there have plenty of hand and foot holds. So far that's the best place, the other places I've looked I don't know if the mechling could do it."

Rockfall threw a rock at the younger warrior. "Then we should get started. We need to hunt this orn and find a good place to spend the night." Ratchet walked over to the ledge where Rockfall had gone down. It wouldn't be an easy climb, but the warriors could do it. He was still concerned about the mechling, they had no idea what his climbing skills were like. The little mech came up next to him and looked down as well and made a soft croon as he inspected the way down. Stretching out on the other side was gently rolling desert. With its covering of sand it looked soft, like the great dunes to the east, but dark shadows of shrubs and spindly plants hinted at harder packed dirt.

"Whistler and I can go first," Charging Wind said coming up next to him and looking down instead of at the view. "He can watch us and then you can go so you can watch him and Rockfall can follow." The little mech looked up at her and then down the cliff before stowing his little staff in the loop in his pack. Ratchet called him back from the ledge so Charging Wind and Whistler could start their way down. The mechling watched them closely as they started their cautious descent.

Knowing he would fret over every worst case scenario until he was at the bottom, he distracted himself by asking Rockfall, "Did you hear anything last night?"

The old mech shook his head. "No, but I recharged like the dead. The ancestors have always had a strange sense of humor when it comes to their gifts."

That surprised a laugh out of Ratchet. He hadn't considered the sandstorm a gift but with his body rested and his head not clouded by exhaustion he would give the ancestors thanks for a night of true recharge. "Hunting will be good, too," he said as he thought about it. Moon River was the only water source for some distance and with everything taking shelter from the storm all animals would be on their way to water.

When Whistler and Charging Wind were about half way down, Ratchet started his descent. The mechling watched him without any trace of apprehension. "I hope that means you can climb, little one," he said before turning his attention to his hands and feet. Close to midorn, the rocks were hot to the touch and Ratchet paused in his climb to watch the mechling navigate the first few steps. There were handholds for the bigger warriors and the mechling's little fingers and toes found even more and he caught up to Ratchet in a few breems.

"Ah, to be young and spry," Rockfall said with a smile. Ratchet snorted. Rockfall may act the old mech, but the warrior hadn't faltered in the ten orns of travel. His joints creaked and after a long night sometimes it took him a few breems to loosen up, but he wasn't slowing down by any means.

The mechling jumped the last bit to the ground and landed with a little 'oomph' and dusted off his hands. Rockfall didn't jump but made a similar sound when his feet hit flat ground. The small river from the story still existed but between time and the previous orn's storm it was little more than a wet spot in the sand. The mechling pulled his staff out and poked the soft sand under his feet saying a few words in his language. Ratchet rubbed the top of his head and then surveyed what they had to work with.

The bright stones of the river were still covered by sand but as more water percolated through and the wind blew they would clear eventually. Thorny yet blooming plants ran along the edge of the stream. There were more green things poking up from just above the sand. "That's a darana on the other side," Ratchet said nodding to the stream. "They keep better before they're cooked, we can dig them up before we move out so there's less a sign of us being here."

With the suns moving past their peak the stream was becoming more active as insects and small animals burrowed to the surface and began buzzing around the wet stain of water. Rockfall checked the sky and then looked both ways up and down the river bed. "We can split up and hunt. Say both groups catch three things and then we can come back and make a camp under one of these overhangs."

Rockfall and Whistler headed left while Charging Wind, Ratchet, and the mechling went right. The mechling spent more time investigating the plethora of green things than he did helping scout for game, but Ratchet let him roam. The last ten orns the screams of the night monsters hadn't given any of them any peace. If the little mech could find distraction looking at the bright pink and yellow blooms then it was another gift from the ancestors. Flitting from one flower to the next, his flame colored cloak fluttering in the breeze he looked like he belonged. Wherever the mechling was from, Ratchet thought it was just as rich in color as the map guiding them.

Charging Wind grabbed his arm with a small gasp that put Ratchet immediately on guard. "Look," she whispered, not with fear but quiet excitement. Keeping an audio open for the mechling he looked to where Charging Wind pointed. "Khinzir," she said, a wide smile on her face. Ratchet let out a breath and smiled back. The cloven hooved prints were small, one still growing, but there were no larger prints accompanying it.

"It may still take all of us," Ratchet said, keeping his voice quiet. Even the small khinzir could weigh as much as the mechling and had short sharp horns above their optic ridges they used for digging and goring. It was a risk to take it on, but one khinzir could keep them fed until the moons were dark again. Not to mention it was an unheard of treat during Lean Season. Even during Hunting Season khinzir were uncommon to come across.

"I'll get Rockfall and Whistler, see if you can track it. If it's in a burrow it might not be worth the risk." Charging Wind looked at the tracks once more and Ratchet sincerely hoped the khinzir hadn't dug itself in. Shaking off his wishes and wants he checked the mechling.

The little mech watched Charging Wind jog back the way they came with a quizzical expression. Ratchet motioned for him to keep some distance. "Chir," he said, pulling one of his fighting knives. Optics lighting up the mechling crouched in the flowers and looked all around. Racking his memory Ratchet found a word that either meant 'bad' or 'danger', they hadn't figured out which. "Huai," he said and again motioned for the mechling to stay back. His small head tilted back and forth like a bird a couple times before he pieced together what Ratchet was trying to say. Chirping an affirmative he left off his hunting crouch and exploration of the river to walk half a dozen steps behind Ratchet.

The tracks wandered back and forth between the shelter of the rocks and the river. Ratchet kept every sense on high alert as he followed the trail. The mechling was a silent shadow behind him. He paused in his track when he heard the steady thud of feet approaching. Looking back he found the other three jogging up to meet him. They slowed to a quiet walk when they were close. "Find it?" Rockfall asked.

Ratchet shook his head. "No, but the tracks are fresher." He pointed to the ones ahead of them that sank deeper in the sand where the wind hadn't begun to fill them in yet. Rockfall studied the tracks for a breem.

"Young, but still a good size," he said. "Let's hope we find it before the creator does, we aren't equipped to bring down an adult." Ratchet had hunted a khinzir with Bright Star when he was still at three colors. It had taken the spears and knives of half a dozen hunter-warriors to bring that one down. He'd been out of the hunt early when the khinzir charged and tore open his side. He looked back at the youngling, also studying the tracks.

"They're not smart enough to circle back behind us, long as he stays back he'll be safe," Rockfall said. "Once he sees it, he'll know he's not a match for it." Ratchet nodded and absently rubbed his side when the khinzir's horns had torn through him. The scar was as long as his hand and a shade darker than the rest of his frame. Leaping Sand had scolded Bright Star from one side of the sky to the other when he'd been brought back to camp bleeding and only semi-conscious. It was the only time he'd ever heard her yell in anger at someone and Bright Star had taken the verbal lashing without protest.

The group began following the trail, Rockfall now in the lead. Ratchet kept to the back so he could watch the mechling trailing behind them.

They didn't go much farther before Rockfall paused and Ratchet cocked his head to the side to hear better. Quiet snuffling came from his right where the stream ran and the plants grew thicker. Motioning for the mechling to stay where he was the four warriors slowly fanned out, Ratchet keeping his back directly to the mechling. The long thorn plants shivered as the khinzir's short compact body pushed through them. Ratchet still couldn't see it through the greenery but it didn't seem to be aware of them yet.

Flipping his knife around so he could throw it he listened and watched the plants. When he was certain he knew where the head was he pulled his arm back and threw the knife. A high squeal of pain and rage blasted the air and the khinzir charged out of its hiding place, Ratchet's knife lodged in its neck. Dark coarse hair covered its body and its sharp horns weren't full sized but still sharp enough to kill.

Charging Wind didn't throw her stave, but lunged and added another wound, redirecting the khinzir's angry charge to her and away from Ratchet and the mechling. Backpedaling, she led the khinzir close enough to Whistler where his sword came down on the khinzir's neck. They both jumped back when the khinzir didn't immediately drop. Rockfall readied one of his blades, but as the khinzir wheeled around its legs buckled and it fell to the sand with a last squeal and then went still and quiet.

"This adventure will turn us into hunter-warriors yet," Rockfall said as he sheathed his blade. Charging Wind laughed and walked to the stream where the khinzir had been rooting to see if it had uncovered anything else to go with their meal. Ratchet checked the mechling who stood against the wall with wide optics. He didn't look alarmed, only surprised and Ratchet walked to the khinzir to retrieve his blade.

Whistler used a spare strip of cloth to wipe his blade clean before sheathing it and handed Ratchet his knife. "Nice throw," he said sincerely.

"Too far back," Ratchet said, crouching down and examining where the blade had struck. He'd been hoping to hit closer to the jaw where the mainlines were, instead he'd struck muscle and fat.

Rockfall huffed. "Don't be so critical of yourself, warrior. If we were hunter-warriors returning to camp we would be talking about that throw until the moons went dark." Ratchet made a noncommittal sound.

Whistler rolled his optics. "He could have brought it down with just that throw and he still would find something wrong with it," he said. He pulled one of his shorter knives and crouched next to Ratchet so they could begin dressing the khinzir.

 **oOo**

Under an overhang with fat strips of khinzir cooking over the fire, Ratchet gave in to Whistler's pestering and told the story of Moon River. It had never been his favorite story and he was a little annoyed he remembered it so well. Leaping Sand had told him it had the happiest ending it could, but—and perhaps it was his healer nature—he did not like that Sma was free to return to his realm after destroying two lives. The mechling fidgeted in his lap looking up at him and then at the khinzir hissing and popping. The aroma made his tanks clamor for food as well and Ratchet held him closer to his spark and looked up at the suns steadily moving toward the horizon.

Charging Wind saw his face as he finished the story and laughed softly. "You always have that look on your face when this story comes up." Despite the good night of recharge the night before her voice was tired. They still had ten hard orns of travel they were recovering from.

They were all hopeful they would have a better recharge under the overhang. Recharging in the open or curled next to boulders staring at the sky willing the moons to brighten faster was as exhausting as hiking through the hot orns. The overhang hid them from the sky directly overhead and the small dugout they had made in the soft sand mimicked the gentle roll sand against the cliff face. They had moved away from where they'd killed the khinzir since the energon would likely draw alkilab and other predators. What they weren't cooking tonight was on its own bed of coals a dozen paces away from their camp, carefully covered by flat rocks from the stream bed that would help it cook and keep scavengers away.

Rockfall snorted. "For good reason. The only decent thing to come from that story is the Suns' punishment." Three heads snapped around to look at the old warrior with wide optics as he pulled the roasting meat away from the fire. Rockfall did a double take when he saw their faces and looked as surprised as them. "What? Have you not heard the very end of that story?" The conversation paused as food was passed around. The mechling licked grease off his fingers and chirruped and crooned in his language, optics bright as he tried to find a piece he could bite into that wouldn't burn his mouth.

"Patience, mechling," Ratchet cautioned with a knowing laugh. The mechling looked up at him and then at his dinner and started blowing on it.

"Red Spool never went on longer than that," Whistler said with a spark deep look of betrayal. Rockfall laughed when he saw his expression. Charging Wind blew on her dinner as well but kept her optics on Rockfall.

"I guess the rest of the story does take away from that dramatic ending." He stretched his arms over his head for a second. "The next morning, the suns rose and heard all about what Sma had done in the night from Yunfakh. There wasn't much they could do to fix the damage, but they punished Sma by giving him what he wanted. The cahm thueban he had used to poison the bondmate was marked with the brightest colors they had."

"The Kubrah," Ratchet said in surprise. The deadliest of the cahm thueban, the only mercy anyone had was its bright distinct colors. Leaping Sand and her mentor had spent their lives searching for a way to combat the venom but no matter what was done, the spark was always lost. As it was, any Kubrah found near camps were killed.

Rockfall laughed and nodded. "The Kubrah indeed, bright red for Sma's fury and sun gold as a mark of the Suns' punishment. I've heard some say it has white on its belly for the sparks it took, but I've never dared to get that close to one."

"I can't believe I never thought of that," Ratchet said. "I always assumed it was a rocky cahm thueban since the story says it had dull colors." He hadn't thought much of the Kubrah's coloring, though, he was only grateful it was so bright. Rocky cahm thueban venom was still dangerous, but there were effective ways to treat it if caught soon enough.

"I can't believe Red Spool never told us the end," Whistler grumbled, but his attention turned to his dinner in the next breath and after testing it with his fingers, he dove in. The mechling chirped and chattered between bites, thoroughly enjoying his dinner and for a moment, unburdened by the fear that never strayed far from him.

After eating, Ratchet sat back with the mechling still curled in his lap. His optics went to the sky, as they did more often than not now, and the velvet darkness beginning to fall. The fire was reduced to embers with liberal handfuls of wet sand that flavored the air around them with petrichor. Along the stream, tiny flashes of light began flickering as the shadows swept over the land. Cursed together for eternity, two sparks shattered and lost to the ancestors. Watching the tiny lights flicker he thought of Arrow and Suns' Blessing. He hoped they were still healing. The brightest of the ancestors appeared in the sky and Ratchet sent a quiet prayer for his home. The moons were moving to their brightest faces, another fortnight and the night would be bright with their silvery light. As it was now, it was already bright enough they didn't need fire to keep watch. Not that they used one anyway.

The mechling burrowed more into Ratchet's side with a quiet sound. "Check the map in the morning?" Ratchet asked softly as the others curled against the sandy walls of their dugout.

Rockfall tilted his head back and looked up at the sky. "Probably the best idea. The ancestors are out, we should be hearing their damnable shrieks any time now."

 **oOo**

A shriek tore through the night. Ratchet was up with a knife in hand before his audios finished ringing. Terror burned through him. His spark stuttered in his chest. It took another panicked second for his optics to register three sets of fire red optics staring at him from the edge of their dugout. Without conscious thought, his hand gripped a knife and threw it at the center-most optics. Another piercing shriek ripped through his audios.

The shadows left the edge and suddenly Ratchet was enveloped by the rancid odor of rot and decay. Claws gouged his throat. A hand colder than the night and tipped with the same razor sharp claws caught his arm when he tried to grab his other knife. Energon ran from his neck where the claws dug in. Choking on a gasp his mind finally caught up with everything happening. Three shrieking shadows were in their camp. The dull thud of fists meeting bodies filled the gaps between the horrendous screams. His choked breaths were overwhelmed with the stench of death.

His free hand gripped the clawed hand around his neck. Despite the night monster's slender frame, its struts were hard as diamond under his hand. Gagging, he fell to his knees, still struggling to get loose. He felt up the night monster's arm until he reached a joint and jammed his blunt claw into it. Like any normal mech, its grip weakened and he tore his throat free feeling energon run down his chest. The monster shrieked again. Ratchet used his free hand to draw his other knife and slashed at its legs. The dark world cartwheeled when he was flung to the other side of the small dugout. He slammed into another frame and they both hit the ground with jarring thuds.

A sudden explosion of blinding light accompanied by an agonized screech made everyone pause for two breaths. Charging Wind stood at the edge of the dugout, stave still held out as if she'd just pushed something away. Only two sets of fire red optics glowed in the dugout. Ratchet's hiss was lower and raspier than usual. He lunged at the closest monster. Catching it around the chest he tackled it against the side of the dugout. Charging Wind's staff came around its neck and pulled it up while Ratchet pushed it out. With an angry snarl, she tossed the night monster into the silvery moonlight. The monster shrieked, dark purple wings igniting with white fire at the tips that spread in a spark pulse. The shriek became high and piercing as a whistle before the white fire consumed it and another explosion of light lit the night. Whistler and Rockfall wrestled the third to the edge of the dugout, its wings thrashing against them. Ratchet drove a knife through one to pin it down and the monster howled, but ripped the wing loose. The force of the hit knocked Ratchet back a step, the hard struts hitting like the hard wood of a staff.

Again, Charging Wind pinned it by the neck and the others pushed it out and she flung it into the moonlight. The night monster gained its feet, its charcoal grey wings already catching fire as it lunged at Charging Wind with a vicious howl of fury. Grabbing her foot, Ratchet yanked her off her feet and pulled her back into the dugout as the final night monster screamed in agony and the night was illuminated one last time.

Breathing hard in the dugout, none of them moved or spoke for a breem. Ratchet pushed himself up and stumbled over to where he'd been recharging. "Mechling?" he rasped, his throat burned and his voice was hardly a whisper. A frightened whimper answered him. Behind him he heard the others moving and a few seconds later the familiar strike of flint filled the silent night. A tiny orange flame brought some light to the dugout. The mechling was still curled up in his blanket and looked like another pack tossed to the side. Energon splashed on the dark fabric and Ratchet willed his hands to stop shaking as he unwrapped the small mech. Optics white with terror looked up at him. Clutching his small pack against his chest like a shield the mechling didn't move on his own, his small frame trembling. But Ratchet didn't see any injuries.

"Meyoh," he whispered, reaching up to Ratchet's neck. Ratchet pulled him all the way out of the blanket and did not breathe easy until he was certain he wasn't injured. The fire finally found its stride and a hissing curse reached Ratchet's audios.

Energon stained the sand, a smattering of navy blue, deep purple, and charcoal grey feathers broken and matted by feet covered the ground. "Ratchet, how badly are you injured?" Whistler demanded. Picking up the mechling he pushed himself to his feet and staggered the two steps to the small fire where he set the little mech down. Whistler and Charging Wind both swore to the ancestors and back when they saw him.

"Meyoh," the mechling said again in a stronger voice. His shaking hands reached into his pack and pulled out his pretty colored pouches and one of his brightly painted bowls. Ratchet's neck burned where the claws had cut into him. Whistler had claw marks on his forearm and along his side that were still sluggishly leaking energon. Charging Wind had a nasty slice across her face and bleeding wounds on her shoulders. Rockfall held a hand to his thigh where energon still came too fast from between his fingers.

Thankful they hadn't made a large place to recharge, Ratchet got to his feet and found his pack. Like the mechling, he pulled out a few extra pouches of herbs and a bowl but also a water skin a couple pieces of cloth. "Ratchet, your neck," Whistler said, holding his arm against his chest. Ratchet was still losing energon, perhaps too fast, but Rockfall needed help now. The mechling set his bowl down but hesitated on choosing his herbs.

Familiar with the bright pouches from helping him fill them, Ratchet set his bowl down and leaned over the mechling. It still hurt to speak and his voice was a hoarse hiss, he picked up the emerald green and sky blue pouches. "Rust leaf for infection, black root to stop the bleeding." The mechling looked up at him, his optics still pale with fear, but his hands didn't shake as much when he picked up the two pouches. He said a few shaky words in his language as he put the fine ground herbs into his bowl. He pulled out the correct ratio and stirred them once while they were dry before reaching for the water skin. Since it was full, Ratchet helped him pour but once he had enough water and started mixing the rest of the fear left him.

Wetting one of the cloths he handed it to the mechling when he finished mixing. "Meyoh," he said again, this time sounding more like himself. He set his bowl down next to Whistler and carefully dabbed at his wounded arm. Ratchet kept half his attention on the mechling as he made his own mixture more from cable memory than anything else. The wound on Rockfall's leg was deep but the old warrior didn't fidget too much while Ratchet cleaned it.

Whistler talked to the mechling while he cleaned his wounds, telling him about the trauma Ratchet had put him through the last time he'd been injured. Ratchet rolled his optics, but the overdramatic story coaxed laughs out of Charging Wind and Rockfall.

"You need to care for yourself, healer," Rockfall said when his leg was bandaged. Ratchet nodded and winced when his abused throat protested the movement. The mechling finished his careful wrapping of Whistler's arm and moved to the deep claw marks on his side. Ratchet wet a clean cloth and dabbed at Charging Wind's face.

"Do you think they're dead?" she asked softly. Ratchet glanced at the scattering of feathers on the floor that made the entire dugout faintly stink of rot. She sighed, "Me neither." They were all quiet again, Rockfall in a light recharge from the energon loss. Ratchet was looking forward to following him once Charging Wind was taken care of.

"They found us too quickly," Whistler said, all pretense of humor gone. "The moons have just reached their peak. If they were as far behind us as we believed…"

"They shouldn't have reached us until tomorrow night at the earliest," Charging Wind finished. "They were here. They might have even been searching for us last night but the sands covered us."

Rockfall's optics flickered but he didn't wake. Ratchet moved to the gouges on her shoulders while the mechling started carefully bandaging Whistler's side. "Map," Ratchet said, wincing as the word rasped up his throat. Whistler and Charging Wind gave him questioning looks. Swallowing he took as deep a breath as he could and ground out, "Going back, they know."

Charging Wind's brow furrowed and she hissed a curse. "Of course, if they followed the mechling's clan they would know what landmarks to look for. Once they found our trail at Scorpion's Tail it wouldn't take much guesswork to figure out where we were going next. They flew ahead."

"But they can't handle the moonlight," Whistler said, glancing up at the edge of the dugout. The night was still too quiet, but a few brave insects started their songs again. "The moons aren't even their brightest and yet the light burned them, literally."

"So if they're going to get ahead of us, they must do it when the moons are their darkest. And we can move while they're at their brightest." Charging Wind winced when Ratchet bandaged her shoulder and moved to the next one. "I see why Whistler was so traumatized," she muttered. Ratchet swatted the back of her head and she smacked his arm.

"Meyoh," the mechling said sternly, giving her a disapproving frown he must have seen his mentor give warriors many times. A smile quirked part of Ratchet's mouth and Charging Wind lapsed into sulky silence. Whistler chuckled and let his head fall back, optics slowly closing.

When he finished with Charging Wind's other shoulder and sat back the mechling came up to him and gave him the same stern look he'd given Charging Wind. "Meyoh." His neck was no longer bleeding, but his exoform and cloak were stiff where it had dried and the exhaustion that always followed battle was compounded by his injuries. Scooting away from Charging Wind he lay back without a fight and let the mechling start to gently wipe the energon off his neck.

The black root had a faint numbing quality to it that made his neck feel better as soon as it was applied. Sighing, he tried not to think since his thoughts were disjointed and nonsensical. He needed an orn and a half of good recharge and, with their newfound knowledge of the night monsters, he might just get it. With the khinzir they had food enough they didn't need to hunt and the stream just outside they didn't need to search for water. They could take two orns to rest and heal.

He woke from his light doze when he felt cloth slip around his neck. "Meyoh," the mechling said a second after Ratchet recognized the small hands on his neck. Opening one optic Ratchet smiled a little and pushed himself up on his elbows. The other three were deep in recharge and the mechling looked like he was ready to be back in recharge as well.

"Good job, little healer," he said, his voice not as hoarse but still not full strength. Ratchet pushed himself all the way up with a pained sound. "Come on, mechling, you need rest. It's been a night from the Pit." It would be morning before they could wash the energon off everything, but the mechling's blanket had avoided the worst of the battle. Wrapping him up once more he stretched out next to him and let his battered body drift into recharge.

 **oOo**

An unnatural noise woke Ratchet. Knife in hand he hissed a warning. "Easy, warrior, easy," Rockfall said, as he leaned against the wall. Morning light came over the edge of the dugout. The mechling lifted his head, looking around once before snuggling close to him again. The knife Ratchet had thrown when he first woke to the night monsters lay in the sand within reach gleaming and clean of energon.

"Noise?" Ratchet said and winced when his throat protested.

"Me. I expected my leg to be stronger, 'bout fell on my face," the old warrior said with a huff. Ratchet snorted and stiffly pushed himself to his knees. The mechling wriggled out of his blanket and looked around at the chaos the battle had left. Puddles of energon and broken feathers littered the floor, their packs were scattered, the walls streaked with energon. Whimpering softly he turned and reached up for Ratchet, asking to be held. Scooping him up without question he let the little mech find a comfortable position with his head pressed against Ratchet's spark. Rockfall watched him with sad optics. "Little ones shouldn't know such fear," he said softly. In a louder voice he said, "Charging Wind and Whistler have dug out some of the stream, they're scrubbing themselves clean. Before the orn gets hot we should move." He wrinkled his nasal ridge when he glanced at the feathers. "Those things still stink to the ancestors. I'd suggest burning them, but that could make it worse."

A good scrub sounded like a great idea, as did finding a new campsite. Climbing out, he came up short when he saw scorched silhouettes of the night monsters where they had fallen and burned. "Ancestors," he whispered. The mechling's small fingers dug into his exoform.

Tearing his gaze away from the burned sand he saw Charging Wind scrubbing her wrappings and Whistler gingerly wiping away the energon that had run down his leg. Setting the mechling down he pointed at the two and said, "Go get clean." Pointing to the energon on the mechling's cloak and then at the stream got the message through and he scampered over to the two warriors giving the black spots a wide berth. "That wound needs a few orns of rest," Ratchet said to Rockfall, trying to warm his voice up. He sounded better, but he still couldn't bring himself to full volume or eliminate the rasp. He held out a hand to the warrior and helped him up.

"I didn't realize it was that deep," the old warrior said wincing and leaning most of his weight on Ratchet. Ratchet's stiff frame took the weight. "Gods and ancestors, those damned things almost overwhelmed us and we had the numbers. If the moons hadn't been out…"

"They won't make that mistake again," Ratchet said as they reached the stream. The mechling scrubbed his cloak with a handful of sand and then set it in the stream to let the water wash over it. The energon came out a little at a time. Rockfall stood on his own and slowly took off his own cloak. Ratchet did the same, wincing when his shoulders pulled.

"We probably have matching dents where you landed on me," Whistler said, twisting as much as he could to see how badly his back was scrapped and dented. Ratchet snorted and dropped to his knees with stiff movements so he could scrub his cloak. The stream was a slow trickle of water and it took the adults a joor to get themselves and their cloaks and wrappings clean. The mechling's smaller frame and cloak didn't take any time at all and he busied himself by pulling out packs and bedrolls and scrubbing those. As things came clean he looked better, more relaxed.

"Do we want to stay by the stream tonight?" Whistler asked as they lay out their things to dry in the baking suns. Ratchet glanced back at the scorched earth and then up at the sky. They had spent ten orns afraid of being caught out in the open but now with the moons brightening it seemed like the open was actually safe.

"Need rest," Ratchet said, his voice raspy and throat sore once more from the joor of silence. Whistler nodded looking as tired as Ratchet felt. "Be easier with water close." So they wouldn't have to constantly be traveling back and forth between camp and the stream.

Charging Wind tapped her staff against the ground while she thought. "We can travel downstream some more. Moonlight is our ally, but I don't think recharging in the open is a good idea. They could heal during the orn and be back to tracking us tonight. Better to have some cover."

"The khinzir still needs some time for smoking," Whistler added. "Night monsters or not, hungry predators will follow their noses to it. We can fend them off better if its sheltered by rocks."

While their cloaks dried, they walked downstream scouting a new campsite. The wind and small flow of water had brushed away some of the sand during the night revealing the glittering white stones of Moon River. The mechling twittered and cooed in awe as he picked up the pretty stones turning them in the sun watching them sparkle. Ratchet kept an optic on him to make sure he didn't fill his pack with rocks but he only caught the mechling pocketing two. Insects buzzed through the still mostly buried plants and tracks from creatures large and small crisscrossed the stream.

"Alkilab came through, but they didn't call," Whistler said looking at the tight grouping of tracks and dig marks where the pack had scraped sand away to reach water.

"If they came any time after our fight with the night monsters they were likely still skittish but needed water," Rockfall said. "They can smell the stink better than we can. Everything out here knows those things aren't natural." He heavily favored his leg but he'd shooed Ratchet away not long after they started walking. Old warriors still had their pride and though it irked him, Ratchet didn't press the issue. Leaping Sand was old enough to order the warriors to do what she wanted, Ratchet on the other hand was generations Rockfall's junior.

Charging Wind paused and called to the mechling, motioning for him to move away from the stream. Looking a little confused, he still did as she asked and instead skipped to Rockfall's side, looking over the bandages seeping energon. He gave the old warrior a disapproving frown and said a few things in his language. Hiding a smirk, Ratchet asked Charging Wind," What was it?"

"Thueban trail." She pointed her staff at the telltale sweep through the sand. "Could be overreacting, but I've still got the Moon River story on my mind and I keep thinking of the Kubrah." No threatening sounds came from the screen of plants, but Ratchet would rather they all err on the side of caution when it came to thueban. He could treat the bites, but no medicine was certain. Even Leaping Sand still lost sparks to cahm thueban.

Whistler walked over to a tumble of stones worn smooth by the wind. "This should work," he said. Part of the upper shelf had collapsed at some point, the great pieces of stones scattered about and sunk into the sand. The largest piece rested against the cliff wall creating a shallow recess. They would still be somewhat sheltered from the sky, but the moons' light would be on them for most of the night. Rockfall inspected the stone while Charging Wind knocked against it to scare out anything already hiding there.

"Good optic, warrior," Rockfall said. He limped to the wall and leaned against it, taking all the weight off his injured leg. Ratchet bit back a sharp remark and set to work clearing away the smaller stones. The mechling had no such reservations and set to scolding the older warrior with his hands on his hips. The old warrior sighed and bowed his head while the other three pretended not to laugh.

"No bad let's go," the mechling said haltingly in their language and pointed to Rockfall's leg.

"No bad let's go?" the warrior repeated with a confused look.

The mechling's tiny tirade faltered and he looked to Ratchet for help. "No…let's go?" he repeated. Ratchet stopped what he was doing and thought about the odd jumble of words before he snorted.

"He's telling you, you shouldn't be walking on that leg," Ratchet said, fins flattening in annoyance when he cast his own glare at the old warrior. "No walking," he told the mechling in a gentler tone, taking care to pronounce each word. "He's only ever heard us use the phrase 'let's go', we haven't used individual words for moving."

"No walking," the little mech repeated and Ratchet nodded. The mechling repeated the words to himself and then drew himself up once more and pointed at Rockfall's leg. "No walking."

"Ah, good, now he can scold me in two languages," Rockfall said dryly.

 **oOo**

They didn't settle into their new camp until the suns were past midorn. Ratchet had exerted his limited authority as a healer in telling Rockfall to stay at the new camp while the younger warriors moved packs and the khinzir. The mechling stayed with the old warrior watching him closely until Rockfall gave in dozed in the shade.

Ratchet sat against the warm rock with a tired huff, his throat sore from what little talking he'd done. It was too hot for the mechling to curl up in his lap, but the little mech made himself comfortable next to Ratchet and his bright optics dimmed as he headed for a nap. Charing Wind rolled out her bedroll and stretched out in the shade as well. "Let's check the map," she said and yawned. "We need to know where we're going and see how we can avoid the night monsters."

Ratchet flicked his cephalic fins a couple times to shake off his midorn lethargy and picked up his pack. Whistler sat down across from him and Charging Wind scooted closer while he pulled the map out. Unfolding it between himself and Charging Wind they looked over the glittering stones in silence for a few seconds like they always did. "You think it'll ever get old?" Whistler asked also looking at the map. "You think one orn we'll pull it out and our sparks won't skip?"

"I hope not," Charging Wind said quietly. "I hope we never become that numb. Like those in the Moon River story who see Sma's cloak and only see the world in grey after. I hope we always see colors." Ratchet ran his finger over the white line of moonstone while he thought.

"Red Valley is next," he said finding the subtle brush of red stones south of Moon River. Whistler grimaced and Ratchet matched the expression. "The valley is supposed to be flat and open," he sighed.

"And full of cahm thueban," Charging Wind added darkly. Looking up at the sky she drummed her fingers on the ground. "The night monsters can't move in the moonlight," she said slowly. "But we can. If we time it right, we could cross Red Valley while the moons are their brightest. What's after the valley?"

Whistler, looking at the map upside down, ran his finger from Red Valley to a 'T' of slightly darker stones. "What is this?"

"Nursur's Perch, I doubt there's much shelter there. It's at the end of the valley so it might as well be counted with it," Ratchet answered.

"But after that…" He moved his finger to a patch of topaz that looked like all the others. "Burrow Rat Canyon, right?" Ratchet and Charging Wind both had to hunch forward and stare at the stones for a few seconds to find the sharp corners Rockfall had pointed out.

"Red Valley, Nursur's Perch, to Burrow Rat Canyon," Ratchet said. "If we get through Red Valley while the moons are bright, we can rest in the canyon. It's supposed to be a maze."

"We might not have a choice," Charging Wind said. "We don't have a clear idea of where Red Valley is or even how big it is. If it takes us as long to find it as it did Moon River and another septorn to cross it, the moons will be well on their way to being dark."

They fell silent for a few breems, staring at the stones. "We'll have to push hard to reach the valley," Ratchet said. The orn before that news would have been unpleasant, but with their new injuries and Rockfall's wounded leg, reaching the Red Valley and crossing it before the moons turned their faces away could prove to be too much.

"Should we dig in here until after the moons are dark?" Whistler said softly.

"We'll be easy prey," Charging Wind said. "We will heal, but the night monsters will attack again and then we'll have to start the process all over."

Ratchet sat back and stared at the sky while he thought. "We do need a few orns to heal. The wound on Rockfall's leg is deep, if we're going to race the moons he will have to gather his strength at least one more orn." Rolling his head forward he stared at the map and the small brown stones that marked Nursur's Perch. "We may have to send a prayer up to the ancestors that there will be cover at Nursur's Perch. If we move orn and night through Red Valley, Rockfall will need two orns of recovery, maybe more."

"We will have to take a long rest in Burrow Rat Canyon, then," Whistler said. "It's said there's no water to be found in Red Valley and if we're moving quickly we won't be hunting. Our food stores will be near gone." They lapsed into silence again until Whistler said, "So we'll need to find a way to rest, hunt, and find water while playing hide and seek with the night monsters as the moons go dark."

"Gods and ancestors, this is some adventure," Charging Wind hissed.

 **oOo**

 **A/N:** Took forever to find the writing groove for this chapter. But it pulled together nicely once I figured it out. Hopefully the next chapter won't fight me as much.

Thank you for your patience as well as R/R/F/F!


	7. Chapter 7

**Red Valley**

 _When the world was young titans and beasts roamed the land while the gods fought high above. But when the gods ended their battles and looked down they realized what nightmares had gotten loose and what chaos they had caused._

 _We fought as many as we could but it made little difference. Our clans were killed, our food and water stolen and we were left to die under the suns. The gods, weary from their own battles, didn't want to start another but they couldn't allow the beasts and titans to roam or soon we would be no more._

 _Weary war gods picked up their weapons, prepared to confront the great titans and the snarling beasts when a clever goddess suggested they set a trap instead. The gods were glad to leave their weapons a little longer and asked what trap she thought should be set._

 _The goddess told them she would take care of the trap, they need only be ready at her signal to end whatever titans and beasts remained. The young goddess was Nar, youngest spark of the great sun, Shaams. She did not have to search long before she found a place stripped of life by the titans and beasts._

 _She descended from the sky and set to pacing and wailing like a lost spark. Shaams watched his spark in confusion knowing she could return to the sky whenever she wanted. Yet he let her be as he roamed the sky with his brother._

 _The titans and beasts also heard her cries and curiosity took them. They came to the barren land where the young goddess wept as if she was lost. The beasts were only hungry and recognized her shine as one of a god and wanted to snap her up. The titans had no compassion in them, but held the slavering beasts back. "We will use her," they told the beasts. "Hear how quiet the sky is, the gods no longer war and will soon come for us. We will take her and tell the gods if they come for us we will eat her." The beasts were unhappy about delaying the meal, but held back for they did not want the gods to come down and end them._

 _The titans gathered together and surrounded Nar. "Little goddess, it will do you well not to fight us or we'll feed you to the beasts." One said. The beasts howled and hissed, their great jaws crashed like thunder._

 _Nar stood from where she had pretended to weep. "You do not know me and that will be your undoing," she said. From her spark she plucked a small piece of Shaams' fire from herself and threw it to the ground. Fire swept over the barren land, burning red hot everywhere it touched. The titans fell first and while the beasts tried to run the flames were faster. As one of Shaams' sparks, the fire did not harm Nar as it spread far across the land. The fire melted rocks and dried up even the deepest wells of water._

 _The fire burned for orns until Nar picked up the small piece of her spark and returned it to its rightful place. The flames died as quick as they had come but everything they had touched glowed red hot. The titans though, were no more. The beasts that had managed to escape were hunted down by the war gods while Nar returned to her place in the sky._

 _Slowly the land cooled, but the valley where Nar had dropped the piece of her spark stayed marked by the heart of fire._

 **oOo**

Red sand stretched as far as the optic could see. The wind flung it against the exposed parts of his frame stinging and rubbing his exoform raw. The suns blazed unrepentant and unforgiving. Heat mirages shimmered ahead of him as he forced his legs to move. He had to keep moving. Breathing hard he kept his optics on the distant horizon where the dark mountains cut into the sky. The fire from the story had never burned out. Ratchet could feel it now on his feet and legs coming up from the hot ground. The red sand had never cooled. They walked across embers now, scorching their feet while the suns beat down on them from above. But they had to keep moving.

The mechling clung to his neck, breaths shallow and fast. Ratchet kept both arms around him as he stumbled forward. He had never craved water as he did now. The first four orns he had been hungry as they pushed through the Pit that was Red Valley hoping to reach the other side quickly. Now he'd lost track of the orns and his stomach no longer clamored for food but _water_. But there was no more water to be had in their skins and none to be found around them. They had to keep moving.

He stopped moving and shot out an arm to stop Rockfall as well. He didn't know why he'd stopped, maybe his frame was finally going to give out. But no, a hiss not far ahead forced his fuzzy thoughts into focus. "Kubrah," he said, voice raspy from disuse and the slowly healing wounds on his neck. The Kubrah's colors were bright and distinctive in regular sand, but here in the red valley the vibrant red was obscured by the rust red sand and the cursed creatures took every advantage of that. The suns had not only cursed them with bright colors but banished them to the Red Valley to suffer. They didn't slither away from their heavy footsteps like other thueban but curled up and hid. And if they happened to get too close for the Kubrah's liking, they'd lose their spark to it. But they couldn't kill every single one they came across. It was impractical and unnecessary. The Kubrah couldn't be faulted for its nature.

"We need to stop," Whistler said as they gave the Kubrah a wide berth and kept moving. Thorny plants a green so deep they were almost black dotted the land around them like crumbling embers among the red sand. What few plants in the red valley survived grew close to the ground where a careless step could end with thorns in their feet. But they had to keep moving.

Rockfall limped badly on his wounded leg and Ratchet had done everything he could for the old warrior. All of them needed water, food, and recharge; none of which could be found in Red Valley or even under the waning moons' light. The howls didn't chase them through the night but he could not blind himself with hope that the night monsters were truly gone. "Stop for what?" Rockfall said skirting a small reddish-orange plant that didn't have visible thorns but that Charging Wind had—painfully—discovered were still there just too small to see. "There's no water to be found here. We can't throw a stone without hitting a Kubrah. We have to find Burrow Rat Canyon. We have to keep moving."

"We don't even know where we're going, we could be going in circles," Whistler argued.

"We certainly can't go back," Charging Wind cut in. "So what choice do we have?"

They had to get away from the suns and get water. Mouth full of sand and dust he found the horizon again, no closer than it had been when they'd first reached Red Valley. Joints creaking he plodded forward, holding the youngling closer to his chest. He hadn't lasted long in the heat, Ratchet couldn't remember when he'd picked the small mech up but he hadn't set him down since. He could feel his little frame growing heavier with every passing moment. "Can't stop," he forced out. "Heat will kill him soon." Because they as grown warriors were weak and dying. The youngling in his arms hadn't stirred in too long. He had to keep moving. The young mech was fading with every breath. They had to find the canyon.

His knees went weak without warning and he stumbled to the ground, one arm still around the youngling and the other shooting out to catch himself before he collapsed completely. The youngling didn't make a sound even with the rough handling. Breathing hard he stared at the ground trying to think. He could taste energon in every breath as if his mouth was so dry his glossa was cracking open. The youngling needed water. They all needed water. "Ratchet?" Charging Wind's hand grabbed his free arm but didn't pull him up. Her grip wasn't as strong as it should've been. He had to get up. They had to reach Burrow Rat Canyon. He had to keep moving.

Sand whipped against his face and he was surprised it didn't cut him open for how it stung. Snapping his teeth together he forced his body up. Wind and sand battered him again. He pushed forward, pushed against the wind and took another step. Optics on the horizon he kept moving.

 **oOo**

Moonlight.

Sunlight.

Keep moving.

Heat.

Pain.

Keep moving.

Moonlight.

Sunlight.

Keep moving.

Heat.

Pain.

Keep moving.

 **oOo**

"Gods damn us all, Ratchet, _wake up!_ "

Optics snapping open he sucked in a deep breath and fell into a coughing fit. Rolling onto his side he gasped and blinked. A processor ache hit him and he groaned which started the coughing again. Aside from the pain in his head he was aware that he couldn't feel the sun. Blinking his optics into focus he saw dark stone and felt blessed cool sand under his cheek.

"I told you, he only responds to angry swearing," Charging Wind said. Ratchet tried to growl but it came out as a weak groan. He told his body to move but his arms felt like they were held down by boulders. Charging Wind's blurry outline was next to him. He tried to make his optics focus but they refused to listen.

A gentle hand on his shoulder rolled him onto his back. "Easy, Ratchet. And if your face hurts it's because Charging Wind smacked you before she swore at you." Making another weak sound he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. His last memories were of red hot sand and nothingness. Now he was faced with cool dark stone that rose high overhead. "Here," Whistler lifted his shoulders and Ratchet leaned back against his chest. "We found a little water, not much, but what little there is, is fit for the gods." Cool liquid brushed his lips and filled his mouth. The stone wasn't all encompassing. Golden spears of light struck the darkness in front of him and he could feel the warm breeze coming through but it wasn't chaffing or full of stinging sand.

Leaning his head back as he swallowed he relaxed against Whistler. "Canyon?" he whispered, throat tight and words hoarse. Rolling his head forward he searched the area for the mechling.

"He's right here," Charging Wind said resting a hand on the mechling's head. "We got some water in him and his color's gotten better but he still hasn't woken up." Ratchet nodded and tried to think but his thoughts stayed slow and jumbled.

Whistler sighed and rested his head against Ratchet's. "Not the canyon. Nursur's Perch as far as we can tell. Or we're hopelessly lost and this is just a random jumble of stones. I don't think it looks anything like a perch, Charging Wind insists if Nursur is one of the great beasts that escaped then it would be the perfect size for him to perch on. We're waiting for your expert opinion but Charging Wind got impatient and wanted you up faster, hence the smacking and swearing."

"Frag both of you," Ratchet said beginning to slide back into darkness.

Whistler laughed and held him tight for a second. "Thought we were going to lose you for an orn there. I'm glad you woke up," he murmured. Ratchet turned his head toward his voice but couldn't find the strength to stay awake. There was something else he needed to remember, something important. But it was so hard to keep his thoughts straight and his aching body begged for recharge. Breathing deep once more he dropped back into dreamless recharge.

 **oOo**

Dreams of fire and burning titans and beasts that stalked in shadows didn't allow him to rest long. Pain in his neck dragged him from nightmares when he tried to shout. He thrashed halfway up before his battered body gave out and he fell to the sand breathing hard. "Ratchet?" A warm hand on his shoulder and his recharge clouded thoughts began separating dream from reality. "Easy, Ratchet. The night is almost over." Whistler's voice was a quiet whisper. Ratchet blinked and tried to slow his raspy breathing. Whistler's optics glowed faintly in the dark. "Here, drink some water." He felt his shoulders being lifted but he couldn't sit up on his own. The opening of a water skin pressed against his mouth and cool liquid soothed his dry throat. He didn't think he'd ever taken water for granted given how sparse it was, but as he drank he resolved he would be even more grateful for it.

He felt more coherent once the water was in him but he still couldn't muster the strength to sit up. Whistler lay down next to him close enough their shoulders touched and spoke softly to him. "We've been holed up here for two orns but we'll have to move soon because we haven't found any game. Rest some more, you'll need all the strength you can gather. I don't think this is Nursur's Perch and I think Charging Wind has her doubts as well." The scheming whisper was one Whistler had used often when they were younger and Ratchet nodded as he slipped into a semi-recharge state filled with dreams and memories.

He didn't recharge as deeply, his mind too troubled by vague thoughts of being lost. He found it too easy to fall into nightmares if he let his mind truly rest. So when the first rays of light filtered into their rough shelter he forced his optics open.

"Mechling?" he asked softly, voice hoarse and low. That single word making his throat ache fiercely. He probed his neck with gentle fingers but didn't feel any heat or sharp discomfort. His exhausted body hadn't had the time or resources to heal yet. He was hoping the soreness would lessen in the next orn. His hands pressed against sand and he tried to sit up but his body felt heavy as a mountain and he hardly got his head off the ground before he fell back exhausted. Whistler still lay close to his left side and shifted a little when he fell back. A warm arm slid over his chest and Whistler rested his head on Ratchet's shoulder.

To his right, Charging Wind sat up slowly looking as awful as Ratchet felt. What little water they'd been able to find wasn't enough. His mouth and throat were dry again already. He couldn't remember a Lean Season where he had been so desperate for water. "Are you awake Ratchet?" Charging Wind asked rubbing her optics. "Or just dreaming again."

"He's awake," Whistler answered. "He woke up before the suns and hasn't recharged since." Whistler's low voice moved through Ratchet's chest as he spoke and he sounded as tired as Ratchet felt. "Is Rockfall showing signs of waking?"

Rockfall. The important thing that had been nagging at him clicked into place. "Where?" he asked, judging the strength in his arms and if he could bully his body upright.

"Next to the mechling," Charging Wind said. "They're both sound in recharge, Ratchet. Don't fret over them. The little mech woke up for a few breems yesterorn and drank some water." That did make his spark beat a little easier but he wanted to see them both for himself.

Whistler sat up, slowly, and leaned back against the wall. "We can try to find some game while its early, but I'm not holding out much hope." Ratchet's mind ground into motion a little at a time. The water had helped redirect is immediate wants and needs. He still wanted more water, but now his tanks were screaming at him. He had no idea when he'd last eaten.

Charging Wind nodded and glanced to the side where the mechling lay curled in a small ball next to Rockfall. "We need to move, soon. As far as we've gone looking for game we haven't found any sign of something that could be Burrow Rat Canyon."

"They're not that far from each other on the map," Whistler said, worry thick in his voice. "They're probably the two closest landmarks but the land all around us is flat as far as we can see." Ratchet closed his optics and tried to remember Red Spool's caravan story about Burrow Rat Canyon. He could swear there had been mention of high spires or jagged cliffs, something unmissable. His achy body still kept his thoughts slow, though and he didn't fully trust his recollection.

No matter, though. If there was no game they still had to move. The water was a gift from the gods, but they still needed food. Whistler sighed and rubbed his face before pushing himself to his feet. "Come on, Charging Wind," he said softly. "The cursed monsters should be hiding and Ratchet is awake enough to look after himself. Let's see if we can find even a thueban to cook."

"No Kubrah," Ratchet rasped, trying to make his voice hard in warning but it was still soft and weak.

Charging Wind snorted. "The gods showed us favor letting us survive Red Valley, I won't push their good graces by challenging a Kubrah." She was the one Ratchet was most concerned with. Whistler had always been a little skittish around the thueban. Using her staff to push herself to her feet she stretched her back and shoulders and ducked out of the small area they were hiding.

"We won't be gone long, Red Valley is still close and it feels like the fire is still burning even here where the sand isn't the color of embers." He grimaced and wiggled his toes. Ratchet's feet ached at the thought of standing much less moving. He was certain all their feet were burned but they didn't have the luxury or time to put them up and heal. Whistler followed Charging Wind out and in a few spark pulses their footsteps couldn't be heard anymore.

Breathing deep as he could to stretch his chest he tried to wake himself up more but his thoughts stayed a step too slow leaving him irritable. He needed to get up and check the mechling and Rockfall. Charging Wind and Whistler knew a little of how to treat injuries, mostly those caught in battle but they didn't know much about injuries that didn't bleed.

Rubbing his face with both hands he dragged in another deep breath and painfully rolled onto his front. His arms shook as he pushed himself up but they lifted him. Digging his claws into the rock he slowly got to his knees, breathing hard. He couldn't remember a time he had felt so weak. His tanks clamored so loud for food he considered eating a handful of sand just to quiet them.

Rockfall's chest rose and fell steadily, but a little too fast. There wasn't any energon under his injured leg but the bandage didn't look like it had been changed. He doubted Charging Wind and Whistler had even considered that. The space was small so their packs were close, but it was still mostly dark which made finding his dark pack amongst the others harder. His mind still functioning too slow for his liking. His pack was buried under Charging Wind's. He tried standing but his legs were weaker than his arms and his knees buckled. Not wanting more bruises to his still healing body he gave up on pride and crawled the two steps to the packs.

Pulling his pack out was harder than rolling the boulders at Scorpion's Tail, but it came loose after a few tugs. Moving made his head slosh and his vision blurr and he had to pause every few breems to catch his breath. He needed to look at Rockfall's leg, though. He couldn't remember ever checking it on their suicidal dash across Red Valley.

The mechling and Rockfall were only four steps away but Ratchet prepared himself like he was going to cross Red Valley again. Shoving the pack across the sandy ground he paused to breathe, feeling his head pound with each spark pulse. His mouth called for water while his tanks still screamed for food. Hanging his head until his chin touched his chest he closed his optics and breathed deep three times. Opening them again he started a slow miserable crawl to Rockfall.

The short trip took all of his strength and he stretched out on his chest next to Rockfall breathing hard, skirting the edges of recharge. He had to check Rockfall's leg, though. He forced his optics open again and tried to get his shaky arms to lift him once more but what little strength they'd had was used up. Optics closing against his will, he couldn't fight the recharge that pulled him under.

He woke up with a start when someone hissed his name. Disorientation hit him hard the first confused seconds he was awake. He expected the dark cool interior of Leaping Sand's tent but his optics were looking at dark weather worn stone. He expected his warm bedroll to be under him, but cool smooth sand was under his cheek.

"Ratchet, you glitch," Charging Wind hissed. He blinked trying to remember why Charging Wind was in Leaping Sand's tent. But they weren't in Leaping Sand's tent. Memory caught up to him and he remembered leaving the camp, the night monsters, Red Valley. And Rockfall's leg. Lifting his head, he drug his arms under himself again and pushed up as hard as he could. He rose, his arms protesting the whole time, and sat on his knees next to Rockfall's shoulder.

"Pack," he said to whoever was closest.

"I'm going to smother you with that pack," Charging Wind snapped. "What are you doing?" Hot mid-orn light filtered into their small shelter heating the air just enough to be uncomfortable. "You're hardly conscious and now you think you need to get up and move around."

She handed him the pack nonetheless. "You change Rockfall's bandage?" he asked, the words stronger than they'd been when he woke up in the morning but still raspy and painful to form. Charging Wind went from glaring at him to frowning as Ratchet pulled out his bowl and new strips of bandages.

"No, I thought keeping it covered was important," she said. "You put medicine on it." Ratchet kept himself from rolling his optics just in time. Charging Wind had no reason to have in depth knowledge of how to care for wounds. That was his job. Still, he thought with as often as she had her own bandages that she would know they needed to be changed.

"Water," Ratchet said instead of getting into the lengthy discussion of wound care. Charging Wind sighed but ducked out of the shelter to go get the water. Ratchet used one of his short healing knives to cut off the old bandage. The wound didn't smell infected, for which he was thankful, but it was hot and puffy around the edges and Rockfall flinched in his recharge when Ratchet gently pressed on it. Tossing the old bandages aside, Ratchet pulled out his ground herbs and mixed some in the bowl just as Charging Wind came back in.

She saw the angry wound on Rockfall's leg and her optics paled a shade. "Not a bad infection," Ratchet said taking the water from her and dampening a cloth to wipe the wound down. He carefully set the water skin to the side so he wouldn't spill any and pressed the cool cloth against Rockfall's leg. Rockfall flinched again and his optics fluttered open for only a second before closing again.

"I'm sorry," Charging Wind said softly. "I didn't even think to look at it." Ratchet wiped along the edge of the wound, the edges smooth as if from a blade but he couldn't remember if the Night Monsters had weapons. His throat throbbed from what little speaking he'd done, reminding him that they were armed like namurr with razor sharp claws.

Tossing the cloth to the side to be washed, he poured a little water into his bowl and mixed a smooth paste. Smoothing a little on the wound he kept an optic on Rockfall's face. His flinching came more often, usually a sign of a waking patient. He didn't want the warrior to wake up thinking he was being attacked and get caught by either a fist or blade.

"Whistler?" he asked as he dabbed the paste on the wound.

Charging Wind leaned her head against her stave and closed her eyes. "Still searching, but there are hardly any insects. I think we're still too close to Red Valley's fire." Setting her stave aside she sat back against the rock and looked at the ceiling. "I've lost count of the orns, but the moons are almost dark. Suhulia will be dark tonight and that leaves us two nights before Raiders' Night, plus another two until Suhulia brightens again."

Ratchet set the medicine aside and started winding the fresh bandage around Rockfall's leg. He couldn't remember when he'd last looked at the moons. But given the weakness he felt he knew they had been stumbling around in Red Valley almost too long. They still weren't safe. They had found shade and some water, but still no food. He glanced at the mechling, still deep in recharge and tinier than Ratchet recalled. He couldn't go much longer without food. If Ratchet had to fight his way through Red Valley to roust a Kubrah and feed the mechling, he would. "We need to move." They were low on options, but waiting out the dark nights without food wasn't one.

He finished wrapping Rockfall's leg and wiped his hands on his pack. He left the bowl out to dry and then he'd chip off what he could. When they found a steadier source of water he would wash everything, for now, what they had was needed for them and not tidying. Digging into his pack he found the soft hide and pulled it out. "We checked it two orns ago," Charging Wind said. "I don't think this is Nursur's perch, but the land is flat and there is nothing else to see." That made Ratchet go cold inside but a lifetime of healer training kept the fear off his face. He unrolled the map that twinkled in the low light and found the reddish gold stones that marked Red Valley.

"This is where we started," Ratchet said putting a finger on moon river. "We started off moving southeast, what do you remember last?" he asked Charging Wind. He had vague memories of following the line of ancestors that made the wing of a great bird in the sky.

Charging Wind was quiet but her optics narrowed a little as she thought. "The last memory I have that I know was truth and not fever dream is moving south, not southeast." Rubbing her optics she sighed. "But I couldn't say how long ago that was." Ratchet ran his finger across the reddish gold stones moving directly south and hit desert topaz, missing Nursur's Perch by almost two fingers.

"We could be four orns or more away from Nursur's Perch," he said. He kept his finger on the spot just outside of the reddish stones and hunched closer to the map searching for the intricate maze of Burrow Rat Canyon. Finding it, he put his other finger on it and looked at the distance between the two. " _If_ this is where we are, Burrow Rat Canyon is likely a full moon turn away." And it was a big 'if'.

"Ratchet, neither Whistler nor I remember how we came to be here. I remember digging for water, but I don't remember how I knew it was there. I don't even remember how we got Rockfall here. I think you still carried the mechling, but even that memory is fuzzy."

"I don't remember anything either," Ratchet said, the rasp in his voice more pronounced with how quiet he spoke. "But we can't stay here. We have to move or we'll sit here and sip water until we die." Leaning his head back he stared at the overhead rocks with Charging Wind. "So do we set off and search for Nursur's Perch or do we try for Burrow Rat Canyon?" They were quiet a long time, the map twinkling in Ratchet's lap as the suns moved across the sky.

Whistler returned empty handed and looking twice as worn. He saw the map on Ratchet's lap and trudged over to sit on his other side. Ratchet didn't look up from watching Rockfall and the mechling recharge. He knew it wasn't his imagination as he watched the mechling's chest rise and fall too quickly. His arms had been small when they set out from Moon River, but there had been strength in them. Now, Ratchet didn't think he would be strong enough to lift his staff or even get to his feet. They needed to find food.

"What did we decide?" Whistler asked tiredly, optics sliding closed.

Charging Wind drug her claws through the sand next to her. "That we can't stay here." Whistler snorted but didn't fully laugh. Ratchet didn't think any of them had the strength for true laughter.

"What's the last direction you remember moving in?" Ratchet asked, dragging his optics away from the recharging mechs and back to the map.

Like Charging Wind, Whistler was quiet for a long moment before he said, "South or southeast, I can't tell which memory comes first. And no, I don't have any idea what the moons were." Ratchet traced a stairstep pattern through Red Valley but there was little difference from a directly southern heading.

"We can search for Nursur's Perch," Ratchet said staring at the map but not seeing it. "Or we can try for Burrow Rat Canyon. No matter where we go, we'll be going blind."

"Burrow Rat Canyon should be easier to spot, it's a canyon. Nursur's Perch is…a bunch of rocks?" Charging Wind said. "We don't know what that's supposed to look like. It could be like Rockfall said about Star Catcher's Hill, we might walk right past it and never know. We'll be hard pressed to miss a canyon."

Ratchet nodded slowly but setting off blindly across the desert was a fool's journey. The routes the clans moved in had been handed down for generations. They always knew when they were close to water or if they were close to a place where khinzir were easier to find or if the other clans were nearby. It wasn't blind faith that they could survive like the traveling merchants seemed to think it was. Even scouting parties never moved more than a fortnight from camp. It was too dangerous to strike out at random.

Ratchet carefully folded the map and stored it back in his pack. They couldn't do much with it. There were no other landmarks between Nursur's Perch and Burrow Rat Canyon. He was more afraid once the map was away. It was admitting that there was no plan. No route. Nothing known.

"We're lost," Whistler whispered. Ratchet's insides turned cold again and he was too weak and tired to fight back the shiver that went across his shoulders.

The suns were just beginning to show the world their dusk colors but Charging Wind said, "We need to recharge. We'll have to take turns carrying Rockfall and the mechling." When the suns rose, they would too. And they would walk blindly into the desert injured, without food, and minimal water. Ratchet shivered again. Both Whistler and Charging Wind scooted closer to him until their shoulders were touching.

Ratchet watched the mechling and Rockfall recharge until night fully descended. Whistler was the first to give in to recharge and Charging Wind followed not long after, but Ratchet stayed awake as the shadows grew long and deep. He resisted the urge to pull the map out and look again. There were no clues left to find. There were no bits of memory that would suddenly illuminate. In the morning they would do exactly as North Wind intended from the beginning: they would trek into the desert and try to survive.

His optics lingered on the mechling and wondered at how brave the warriors had been to cross the mountains. At how brave the young mech was to not only follow those warriors but also the group of strangers that had taken from the camp when those warriors fell. Fear pulsed cold through his spark and painful humbleness overwhelmed him when he measured himself against the unknown warriors that had come into the desert, chased by night monsters. They had given everything to keep their young mech alive. He would do no less, else he would never be able to face them when he joined the ancestors.

He looked up at the rocks blocking the view of the ancestors. "Bright Star," he whispered with barely a sound rasping from his damaged strotta. "Please. Please help us."

 **oOo**

 **A/N:** Oh no! What do you think will happen next? Because I have no idea, I didn't plan on them getting lost but Ratchet has been so difficult about the updates I decided to make him super miserable. *smiles sweetly*

Thank you for Reading/Reviewing/Following/Favoriting!


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